The Emotion in the Silence
by Chestnutlass
Summary: What happens when after another Gravedigger Attack one of thier own is standing on the edge of life and death? What if she can't find her way back no matter how hard they try to reach her? Would you give your life for the one you loved?
1. Special Delivery

"Special Delivery"

Dr. Temperance "Bones" Brennan sat very still as she peered into the microscope at the latest victim. In the past four hours, she had run many tests. As of now she knew was that she was Caucasian, female, 19 when she died. And that the death had occurred about 80 years earlier. Some would have gone home hours ago, but to Dr. Brennan this girl deserved a name and a face as much as anyone.

It shouldn't have been a shock when the FBI had dropped off the skeletal remains to the Jeffersonian, but it was odd that Booth didn't accompany it. He usually made initial contact with her, even if it wasn't a case where he was planning on taking a personal interest. She enjoyed the way he bustled in, gave her the specifics and exchanged pleasantries. Not to mention he prevented her from having to deal with some of the other, rather condescending and cavalier "G-men".

Booth made it known that he appreciated and respected her work. They had worked together for nearly 5 years and partners for four of them. All in all he represented the most satisfying part of her career. One of the greatest decisions of her life was demanding that he take her into the field. It was odd how she had even come to appreciate his all-American boy persona that had initially irritated.

Perhaps Booth he had the day off, or was busy with another assignment. She had to admit it was rare that he didn't keep her informed, but sometimes things come up; Parker being one of those things. She made a mental note to give him a call when she finished analyzing the depression at the base of the victim's skull.

"Hi" a gruff man's voice broke her train of thought "I am here to drop-off a FedEx package for a Miss Temperance Brennan?" Without so much as looking up from the microscope, she waved him away. "Dr. Brennan" she said with a hint on annoyance "and you can just leave it on the table." This was how she worked, avoiding interruptions, tuning out all that was around her. She was so engrossed in the cranial analysis that it never occurring to her that it was late, and the lab was empty and no one ever delivered packages at this hour.

It was terrible, life changing mistake. She didn't even notice that he had crossed over to where she was sitting. She didn't feel his ominous presence. There was no understanding that he was even still there until she felt the stun gun at her neck. Panic did not even have a chance to hit as all went into blackness.


	2. Voicemail

"Voicemail"

He cursed under his breath as he got her voicemail for the fourth time. Booth was sorry that he wasn't there to escort the latest find from the mass grave in Richmond. Although he knew she hated dealing with any other agent, he didn't have a choice. Today was Parker's play at school, and he was the lead lobster. Any decent father does not miss his son as the lead lobster! Being annoyed was one thing, but ignoring his call was another.

There was something of a connection between Bones and Parker, something he was not above exploiting. "Bones, its Booth…again." His voice was somewhere between annoyed and desperate. " I'm sorry I left you to those other agents. Parker's play was great, he wants me to tell you hi and he can't wait to see you again. Call me!" Something felt wrong, even when she was mad she picked up the phone, even if it was just to hang up on him. Maybe she had forgotten her phone at the lab tonight. After dinner he would swing past her place and apologize face to face. If she would let him in the door.

It was the jostling that awoke her. She was in total darkness, but could hear the constant sound of the engine. With terror she realized that she was trapped in a car; again. Knowing she had to stay calm she began to feel around her. As she suspected, she was locked in the trunk of the car. Using her legs as leverage, she tried to push herself to freedom, but it was useless. Each passing second raised her sense of panic. Where was she going? Who had taken her?

Taking a deep breath, she tried to imagine her friends. She knew the team wouldn't let her down. They would find her, so in the meantime she would gather the evidence they would need. Her mind raced, Rip a piece of the lining of the trunk. Gather a sample of the dirt at the bottom. She even tore a piece of her shirt, dabbed a cut on her hand, and tucked it into the corner. It was leave a trail. Cool headed, it one of her best attributes, and this time it would save her.

The ringing in his pocket almost made him drop the hot spaghetti on the floor. Fumbling with the bowl and his phone, he flipped it open and brought it to his ears in a fluid motion. He desperately hoped it was Bones. "Booth" he said confidently. But it wasn't Bones instead a hauntingly familiar voice was on the other end, and it knocked the wind out of him, sending his dinner crashing to the floor. The digitalized voice came through slow and calm. "This is the grave digger. I have Dr Temperance Brennan. I do not want anything. There is no ransom. This call is merely to inform you that in 24 hours, she will die."


	3. Believe in Miracles

The car had come to a stop; the jostling had finally ended. But her stomach still lurched from the constant motion and the endless terror. Temperance knew that this may be her only chance for escape. She grasped around in the darkness looking for something to defend herself. It was obvious that he expected her to remain unconscious for the entire trip; by some miracle he had left her unrestrained. Then, flush against the back of the trunk she felt and grasped a tire iron. This time she was going to be ready for him. The shuffle of footsteps approached the car and she heard keys. As she reached up to use her weapon, he was faster. She caught the edge of his elbow as he once again controlled her by sending electricity through her body.

The thundering of his heart was the only thing that Booth could hear. His hand was burnt by his late-night dinner but the rest of him had suddenly gone cold. He crumpled to the kitchen floor. His body shaking in a way that he hadn't known since the war. Once again he had failed to protect someone he cared about. This time there would be no chance at redemption. The gravedigger had said it himself there was nothing he wanted, nothing he could bargain with, nothing that would bring him answers. He didn't even know where she had been grabbed; he didn't even know where to start.

In that moment Booth did the only thing he could, he knelt down in prayer. Holding his St. Christopher Medal he reached into the only place there was always hope; hope would always be found with faith. He believed in miracles. The simple action was enough for him to regain a basic sense of composure. As he was on his knees on the hard tile floor, he caught in his sight a photo on his refrigerator. It was a picture of his birthday party last year. Looking at the mass smiling faces, he centered on Bones' piercing blue eyes. And then was drawn to the dozen other faces surrounding hers. Suddenly he knew where to start. He wasn't the only one who could find a solution. As much as he often forgot, he wasn't alone. He would have to do something out of character; he was going to need to ask for help.

Booth was grateful for the miracle of mobile phones. He jumped into his navy SUV he sent out a mass text message to everyone that had a connection. They might not all understand the message, they might not all answer the call, especially at this hour. But this was one time he was not going to count anyone out. It was a simple message:

Bones taken by the gravedigger. The Lab. NOW.

As she slowly regained consciousness her whole body hurt and it felt like she was swimming in peanut butter. It was obvious that he had drugged her in addition using the tazer. Struggling to yell or move was impossible against the restraints. This time he had also taken the time to tie her up. Precautions, that she would not catch him unprepared again. How long her had kept her sedated? Had It had been hours, maybe days? She looked around at the cold wet brick walls around her. She realized she was lying sitting in 3 inches of standing water and she was freezing. Where was she? Was he waiting for some kind of ransom? Did anyone even know she was missing? As a thousand questions swirled around her hazy mind the sinking feeling filled her chest again. This was not his usual way. There was no ransom; there would be no salvation, no miracle. This wasn't a kidnapping, but instead simply a murder. Her murder.


	4. A Call to Action

He raced into the empty lab. As he darted in swiping his ID; he saw that it was in the usual state of suspended animation. Monitors were on, lab equipment running, as it performed the tests that needed overnight to complete. He continued at a jog as he ran back to Brennan's inner office. Ripping open her desk he saw that her purse was right where she always left it. Dumping the contents on the floor he saw her keys, and cell phone still inside. He just had his first answer, the last place Temperance had been was right here in the lab. He realized that maybe just maybe he would find her in time.

Angela and Cam were right behind him. Their flushed faces showed that they already understood the worst. "What do we know?" Cam shouted as she moved to join Booth in the center of the lab. "Nothing absolutely nothing." He said his voice grim. "I didn't get to capture this message on tape, he left no information for a drop off, he wants nothing from us." His face gave away even more then his voice. "He just wants to torture us with the knowledge that there is probably nothing we can do to save her." Cam reached out to touch Booth's shoulder, but he skirted away wiping the entirety of the lab white board. Booth had to remember he wasn't one for wallowing, he was a doer. Bones would be angry that he touched her stuff, but if, WHEN, he found her alive he would be more than happy to fight with her about it. Forever if he had too.

In a rushed scrawl he began to write. He listed names of victims and matched locations both of where they had been taken and where they had been found. Random information continued to fill the board. Brennan had once told him that to find the truth you need to learn everything about everything and then see how it fits together. Nothing was trivial information.

The automatic doors to the lab slid open and in rushed Hodgins. "I didn't send for you" Booth said darkly. "I did." Angela spoke carefully. "Regardless of what he has done wrong, no matter what the repercussions almost were. He may be our best shot. He knows more about the gravedigger, about conspiracy about particulates that could lead us to Brennan than anyone. No stone unturned and all that. It is what Brennan would want." "Brennan would want him nowhere near this case." came a growl from Booth." "Well you may be right" Angela's voice softened "But without him we never find her, right now that is all that matters."

"I am going to the security station of the museum to see if there is any camera footage that may be helpful. He is getting sloppy. He took her from a place with state of the art security." Angela went out the doors toward the front station. "How is it sloppy if he was able to grab her…here?" Booth was starting to waiver . Once again Cam was by his side. "He is sloppy because he will leave us all the evidence we need to find her, and finally nail him to the wall."

The lab was a fury of activity as each of them struggled to make sense of what little information they had. Cam had gathered what evidence remained at The Jeffersonian. Hodgins was deep in his own personal conspiracy files. Cam made a mental note that Hodgins file was nearly 5 times as thick as the one she carried. Booth and Angela were pouring over the security tapes looking for anything askew. Deep in their own work they hardly noticed that Sweets had entered the lab. Little did they know that it was being so absorbed that had been Brennan's downfall. Sweets let out a bit of a cough to announce his presence, and everyone looked at him. "I got your call; sorry it took me so long. I stopped to pick up another reinforcement." Through the doors came a beloved face that might be just what their rescue mission needed.


	5. Help In Unexpected Places

Help in Unexpected Places

There was a crush at the door as everyone raced to embrace their friend. "Zack!" Angela started to cry a little as Booth gave him a brotherly slap to the back. Sweets just stood in the doorway and beamed for a moment. He was proud of pulling a few strings, even if no one ever thanked him for it. "Thanks Sweets, I know it wasn't easy for you to get him out." Booth had come up behind him and gave a troubled smile. It was hard to admit that Zack was a welcome addition. "Well, I figured if any forensic questions arise, there is no one better to answer them. And even I have to admit he is wicked smart. I am committed to this team, all the way." There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Booth wasn't used to expressing his feelings, and Sweets didn't quite know how to handle the compliment, and so doing what they do best they awkwardly parted ways.

Hodgins ran to catch Booth as a plodded back to Brennan's office. "Hey Booth….How are you so sure that this really is the gravedigger? I mean she is in jail. We solved that crime already. That is how we were able to find you."

"No it wasn't." Booth said simply, Jack unsure of his meaning. With a sign Booth continued. "I never believed that she was really the gravedigger, it never rang true to me. She was some sort of accomplice, a scapegoat. My suspicions were confirmed, when Taffet was mysteriously killed in prison last month. But it was easier to think that this was over, that the monster was gone. My inability to face the truth may kill my partner. "Hodgins spoke softly. "Well my inability to let the truth happen, nearly got you killed too." Booth gently nodded his head and start walking again, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

The freezing cold water started to make her feel more alert. But that only brought the realization of her impending death crashing around her. Maybe it was better to just be unconscious. The foul smell began to assault her senses. It was obvious that she was underground, in a storm drain of some kind. The water she was sitting in was a dark murky brown, and debris floated everywhere. There was a constant dripping sound but otherwise she was completely alone. She ached both from being thrown inside a car trunk and the cold was seeping into her joints. The nausea was back, the drugs had done a real number on her and the smell was atrocious.

Once again she tried to let out a muffled cry. But the tears only flowed silently against the rag in her mouth. She tried to move and shift in every imaginable position but the struggle just caused the nylon rope to become tighter and bite into her skin. Everything she had ever been through, all of her training, it meant nothing. There was no hope; she could only wait to die. Part of her hoped the end would at least come soon.

Booth was startled as once again the automatic doors slid open. Agent Perotta came striding in, with at least 6 other FBI agents each one carrying or pushing large containers. Everyone stood in amazement as the entirety of the FBI storage locker on the gravedigger was laid on the lab tables before them. "I thought you could use all the information you could get, and a little man power too. They still let me have access to the locker, although I doubt they will after this." She paused "I'm worried about her too Booth." No one could miss Booth's large figure standing there with face that could only be described as grateful. He knew that he shouldn't feel this way, they all loved her just as much as he did. He couldn't help it; all he felt was that they were helping "His Bones."

Now they were in business. Things were looking up. And they still had 19 hours to find her.


	6. Finding DZ711G

Finding DZ7-11G

The usually calm droning energy of the lab, was intense, almost electric with frustration. They were used to difficult cases. This time they seemed to have every support, and they still seemed to be getting nowhere. Their best shot still seemed to be any camera footage, maybe they could at least get a clue or a glimpse of the kidnapper. The FBI agents that had arrived with Perotta were currently dusting ever square inch of the lab for prints. Prints that Booth knew would take too long to identify.

In what seemed like a blink, the hopeful 19 hours became a worrisome 15 and a bleak 10. 10 hours left to crack the case and find her alive. But once again magic happened within the confines of the lab. After carefully searching camera footage, footage that had already been combed by both Angela and Booth, Hodgins once again resurrected the glimmer of hope. "DZ7-11G! DZ7-11G!" It sounded like the ravings of an over-exhausted lunatic. "DZ7-11G! We got it!"

In the dark, damp confines of her prison. Brennan was left alone with her thoughts. Something she had avoided for years, decades even. She had filled the spaces with work, and with travel, which come to think of it was usually about work. She had written bestselling-novels, however if she was really honest with herself, that was related to work as well. She wasn't going to apologize for the fact that she enjoyed her work. In fact, as she allowed herself to sift through her own thoughts she discovered that she had very little regret. She wondered if this process of self-reflections was something that the many victims that had come across her table had experienced.

Despite some bumpy patches, she was for the most part satisfied when she looked back at her life. Of course her work was a major part of feeling fufilled. Each time she gave a victim a face or helped catch a killer she made a positive difference. For the first time in her life she had good friends, she felt solace especially in her friendship with Angela. It had taken a long while, but she felt as though the past year had really allowed her to make some peace with her past. She still didn't have the close familial relationships that she remembered from her childhood, but progress had been made with both her father and her brother. Even she had to admit that her brother's girls had really started to steal a place in her heart.

Booth would have told her that what was missing from her life was faith. In the past years he had tried countless times to help her understand that there is someone bigger working on their side. She had to admit that the anthropologist in her was curious about the deep connection that so often existed between religion and culture. But despite all of his arguments she just could not find room for God in science. All the times her life had been in danger she still had not found an opening for God. She had faith in a man much closer. Her faith had always been reserved for Booth. Booth. Booth. If there was a time for brutal self-honesty this was it. And as she looked back at her life, it became quite clear that despite the work they had done, he was her only regret.

"DZ7-11G!" Hodgins continued to repeat. Angela got right up at his face and gave his shoulders a firm shake. "What are you talking about?" His eyes were absolutely wild with a combination of excitement and exhaustion. "It is the license plate of the car that has Dr. Brennan!" He brought out the still image he had printed. "This is an image from the security tapes at the bank from across the street. See here? If I zoom in on the bumper, there is a remnant of a red sticker. THE red sticker. The one Brennan pulled from my leg! I always knew that sticker would be the key! I can't believe he was this stupid! We've got him!" It all came out in a single breath, practically a single syllable. He suddenly looked incredibly pale and drained. Booth snatched the picture, and broke into a sprint toward Brennan's office. "I will get the APB out immediately!" Cam looked with concern at Hodgins. "Are you absolutely sure?" Hodgins broke into a wide child-like grin as if a weight had suddenly lifted off his shoulders. "Is the Pope Catholic?"


	7. Proceed with Due Diligence

**Author's Note : It has been awhile since I posted. I actually have the ending written I am just trying to connect the dots. I also have been moving and that sure makes time evaporate! This chapter especially jumps between Booth and Brennan and the lab. To try and eliminate confusion I tried to put breaks in. As always please comment! **

Proceed with Due Diligence

Zack had silent crept up behind Booth in the inner office. "I wonder, if perhaps it should be seen as odd that the same section of a bumper sticker is still visible after 2 years. Or that he is even using the same vehicle. Wouldn't he have gotten rid of it so that it would not be traced to his former attacks? Hodgins himself said it. I CAN'T and DON'T believe he is this stupid. He is leading us somewhere on purpose."

"As much as it pains me to admit it" Booth said with a barely noticeable wince "I absolutely agree with you. He is doing this on purpose. But being as we have no other paths, I am willing to follow where he leads me. I can only hope he will slip up at some point. We have no other choice. But we will be on guard. "

"Then I shall continue with my work. It pleases me, the work. I hope someday that I may continue under better circumstances. " Booth followed Zack with a shudder, it would appear that his time spent locked away in an asylum had done little to improve his conversation ability. He supposed even genius has a price. However if Zack could use a little of that genius to find Bones, it would be worth any cost.

Looking around the Lab, Booth started to feel useless. He was out of his element. There was nothing he could do in a lab. He wasn't good with math or science, and frankly didn't even understand the language being thrown around. He started to feel like he was suffocating, the lights were too bright, the hum of the equipment was deafening. He felt dizzy and nauseous. He didn't even realize he had raced out of the lab until he hit the cool air of the street. It made him feel weak to have to flee, and he hated feeling weak. She did this to him. He wouldn't feel this way about anyone but her. Maybe Parker, but that was different, he loved Parker.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Despite the darkness of her surrounding somewhere inside Bones knew that morning had come. She was still alone and wasn't sure if that should be a comfort or not. The fact was alone, he wasn't coming to kill her, but alone meant that there was no rescue either. There was an overwhelming sense of calm that came washing over her. It wasn't that she felt safe, far from it. She didn't feel that rescue was imminent. In fact she had reached the logical conclusion that her time was very limited. Yet somehow she didn't feel scared or alone.

XXXXXXXXXX

Everyone in the lab seemed to be stalling in their efforts. "We have confirmation on the license plate." Cam spoke as she strode into the center of the lab. "It is owned by a Joe Smith of Arlington. Call me crazy but that sounds like a false identify if I ever heard one." "Probably" said Hodgins " but did they fax you and address anyway?" "They did and it came back as the address of the storage facility that had been rented by Taffet. " A deafening silence fell over the room. Things were falling into place a little too neatly. A little too perfectly.

"It would appear that the real grave digger was working closer with Taffet then we originally calculated. The knowledge of the location of the storage facility was not made public record." Zack declared. "I think that more answers may be discovered in the contents. I do believe however that this still has the marking of a trap, and would proceeded with due diligence. Hey where is Booth?"

XXXXXXXXX

As Booth sat on the cool grass he watched the traffic on the street across from the building. Each car drove past without any realization of the fury of activity just inside. Did they even know that the work being done here made the country safer for everyone? That because of tireless efforts of his squints justice had been brought to so many dangerous people, now no longer a threat? He studied the steady rhythm of the traffic it calmed the rhythmic beat of his heart as well. As he allowed his body to relax he suddenly noticed something. He had seen the same grey sedan pass him several times. It was not the car from the picture but something about it had struck Booth as strange, and not just that it appeared to be casing a museum.


	8. Fraying Edges

Fraying Edges

Booth burst back into the lab with a renewed sense of purpose. He had watched to sedan circle four more times around the block. He had copied the plates and called in an unmarked to start tailing him. Now he had just had to get the car to lead him in the right direction. "We have a grey sedan!" He yelled out to the others. "Grey?" Hodgins inquired. "Grey? The car from the security camera wasn't grey." Booth quickly recounted his experience with the grey car. He brought out his phone and Hodgins looked at the quick picture Booth has taken with it. Indeed it was a basic grey sedan, a Nissan, as if selected to be nondescript, to blend in. Somehow Booth knew that this grey sedan was going to be his "Where's Waldo" moment.

Booth had just begun trying to fit the grey sedan into the puzzle he had created on the lab whiteboard when he sensed Hodgins over this left shoulder. "You know Booth; he is watching us for a reason. Maybe we can tap into that reason to help find Brennan." Booth stood there for a minute as if contemplating what Hodgins had said. "And how exactly do you suppose that we do that? Put up a big sign that says lead us to her? Should we arrest him so that he stews in a cell while she dies somewhere? Maybe you think we ought to lead him on some wild goose chase so that he forgets all about the case?" The obvious pressure in Booth's voice made everyone in the lab turn around. It was as if he was fraying on edges no one even knew he had. The dozen pairs of eyes burned into him and he could feel himself start to crumble again. The car had given him hope, now he just had to figure out his next move. The gravedigger was out for a chess match and he wasn't going to surrender his queen so easily.

XXXXXXXXXXX

The shadows were playing tricks on her mind. The trauma was beginning to cause her to hallucinate. That could be the only rational explanation. She was alone, completely alone and any endorphins released by her brain were not going to tell her otherwise. Yet she felt the calm still washing over her like a gentle wave on a beach. Maybe this is how it was intended. Perhaps the body released a chemical response to dying that made it possible for the body to shut down with a minimal of pain, mental pain included. It was a shame it would be impossible to quantify without becoming a serial killer, yet perhaps she could somehow test hormone levels in tortured corpses?

Her next thought was that there would be no later in which to do such a study. Someone else would be working in the Jeffersonian, and solving the murder, and working with Booth. She hoped it would be Wendell at least Booth would be able to work with him. He wasn't as intellectual as some of her other interns but Booth's partnership was too important for his needs to not enter into consideration. She was shocked by the emotional pain the thought of him without her caused.

Then, as if rising from the brick walls she could suddenly hear someone else breathing. How long had they been there? Waiting in the shadows. Watching her writhe in frustration and pain. Body twisting as she attempted to turn around to face the heavy breather, she suddenly heard his voice. Raspy and nearly gasping it was clear that this man was dealing with his own endocrine response. "Dr. Brennan. Dr. Temperance Brennan. A worthy adversary. It will almost be a shame to see your life ended. You have made my calling so much more….satisfying."

XXXXXX

Once again the lab had calmed into a drone. The tension was starting to weigh heavily. Across the room one of the nameless FBI agents was yelling with Cam. Booth looked up and tried to register what they were saying. At the word hopeless he purposely turned a deaf ear. Through the glass door of Angela's office he could see her sitting on the floor. She was curled knees to forehead, and it didn't take a special agent to see that she was sobbing heavily. He thought momentarily about going to her, and yet he knew he didn't have the words to comfort her. He didn't have the words to comfort himself. He carelessly glanced up at the lab clock. The ticking seemed to etch into him as if they were the beating of a heart; his heart, her heart.


	9. The Wooden Box

The Wooden Box

If everyone had not been so entrenched with finding Brennan, they would have noticed that Zack and Hodgins had not resumed their camaraderie. They would have seen the pained look that Hodgins gave Zack and the blank stare he received in return. But Hodgins felt it. Zack was not the dear friend he used to know. There was an emptiness about him, that Hodgins deeply sensed. But there was genius still to tap inside that darkened mind. Zack spoke in a calm cool tone. "I think I may have something of note to share with the agents. " It was if he was unable to call them himself to offer communication with anyone. "BOOTH! " Hodgins bellowed across the lab. "Get over here!"

XXXXXXXXX

The voice, was not one that she recognized, the scientist in her tried to imagine the structure of his skill based on the timber of his voice. But she was weary and none of her thought were even making sense anymore. Despite the danger that registered at the sound of his voice, Brennan noted that she still felt very safe. Protected. Even the thought that this was probably a symptom of dying didn't alarm her.

As she thought once again about dying, she could see his form lurking in the shadows, coming toward her carrying a large wooden box. Once again she tried to make her mind focus, to study on the potential details. The box was infact some kind of small toy chest. It had a worn painting of a teddy bear across the back. "I have brought final gifts for you." He sneered, and he set down the box at her feet. She shifted he weight forward to try and protect herself. Slowly with malice and intent he lifted the lid to remove the contents. Brennan instantly recognized the all too familiar scent of death and blood.

XXXXXXXX

"With the additional variable of the silver sedan I was able to reconstruct the various security footage that we have, and it became apparent that the while the white van was not caught in any of the frames outside of our garage, the grey sedan in fact can be traced at several angles. .." "Zack get to the point!" Hodgins yelled viciously to the surprise of all the others that had gathered. "THE POINT is that I can map the course the sedan took upon leaving here with Brennan. ALSO the van is potentially very near." "ZACK!" Hodgins was obviously angered "We don't care about what you found, unless it tells us where she is!" A quiet detached voice rang out in the silence of the lab. "It tells us where she is…"

XXXXXXXX

Despite her familiarity with death the smell of fresh blood caused her traumatized stomach to roll and heave. She turned her head away to try and control her emotions and once again the warmth and calm washed over her. "Open your eyes!" He demanded as he carefully and maliciously lifted out four human hearts.

"I killed them all, I killed them all because of you. " He said whispered. "They are gone. But lucky for you I am sure they are now waiting for you on the other side. " It was then that she noticed the wrappings, around each heart was a personal object of some kind. It was with sickness that she began to recognize each item. Booth's St. Christopher Medal. The necklace she had bought Angela in Argentina last year. Her father's favorite tie. A small keychain with a picture of Russ's girls. "Your father and your brother had been dead for day. You didn't know that did you? Your friends only this afternoon." These were trinkets that were never without their owners, even in death. With that knowledge Dr. Temperance "Bones" Brennan finally broke. She was utterly and completely alone.


	10. Breathe, Just Breathe

Breathe, Just Breathe

Booth went flying out of the Jeffersonian wearing a borrowed lab coat and glasses. He jumped into a yellow cab and started giving directions. He had thought it was best if the gravedigger still thought he was at the Jeffersonian. He wanted to get to Bones and get her to safety before he engaged with this sociopath. "Go out of the city toward the beltway." He said to the driver and then checked in with the FBI surveillance team. "We still have him. We alternate off at different sections. He seems to be taking a slightly different route each time he passes the lab entrance. I has made some very strange route choices, but I don't think he is aware that we are tailing him. "

"Good keep it that way, I am going to get Dr. Brennan. There should be a FBI team waiting for me when I get there." He brashly hung up his phone his heart lifted just a little, within the hour he would have his partner safe at home again.

XXXXXXXXX

Her own heart felt as though it had shriveled to nothing. A deep gaping hole that filled her chest. All her adult like she had prided herself on her capacity to be alone. But to feel the sudden and permanent loss of all those she loved. It was more than anyone should have to endure. Once again she felt the warm feeling of security wash over her. This time she finally understood. There was someone with her, this mad-man was right, they were waiting for her. Her body felt as though she was being pulled in a tender embrace, that she gratefully sank into; she only wished that death would come quickly.

XXXXXXXXX

Booth's cab arrived to the location that Zack had narrowed down based on time on and off camera and travel times. He really didn't care how he came up with this particular block. He was only grateful to have some sort of a lead. It was a short block on the dark side of the city, perfect for holding a captive. Sweets and told him that this maniac preferred the underground, the dark. It was why he chose to bury his victims. It was how he separated from the outside world. He scanned the block, dark in the early morning dawn. He waited and paced for his backup to arrive. It would be impossible to search all of these buildings alone. He remember back to a time when she was missing. When the gravedigger had taken her. He had saved her then, but he needed a sign. But this time there was no divine puff of smoke and dust to mark the location. Once again he prayed for a little help. And then he saw it, a storm drain that had been disturbed. He knew. She was there.

A musty smell filled his nostrils as he dropped himself into the storm drain, desperately wondering what he would find. He fell into the natural prayer that carried him through difficult times. "Our father who art in heaven…" His prayer was disturbed by the sound of his phone. "Booth." He whispered into the phone. "Booth, it's Angela. I was just reviewing the footage of sedan and was able to get an angle where we can see his profile." "Great" said Booth gruffly, we will look at it later, now let me just get her out of here. "Wait!" Angela yelled. "You don't understand. The profile of the gravedigger leaving is of a burly man with red hair. The man the FBI are tailing is a young skinny blonde. It's is a trap of some kind, or a diversion, or something else….bad." After a moment pause and a pained look across his face, he moved to turn back, but stopped. "I have a feeling Ange, tell them I am checking out this drain line anyway. I have to try." He knew that most grates were disturbed in some way, but he had to believe that she was being held down here. Instinct was something he had always trusted. He was a man of heart and of action. Something deep in his gut was pulling him, guiding him through the long dark corridors. His feet sloshed in 6 inches of sewer sludge, but he moved with purpose.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Suddenly, as if angered by her calm demeanor, he reached up and beat her across the face. Her nose bloodied. As she fell over he kicked her again in the chest. Brennan in that moment decided she would not cry, not for the vanity of this man. He had already taken everything from her, and she desperately hoped that he would kill her. And it was obvious that that was his intention too. Suddenly, the man stopped and looked around furiously. Then with urgency he grabbed her by her hair and dragging her to where the water had pooled deepest. With a sudden quality of calm, he submerged her head beneath the water. Instincts told her to fight, to kick to struggle for air. But the fight was gone in her, he had taken it along with everyone she cared about.

As she slipped away her eyes filled with their faces. Booth, Angela, her father, her brother. Suddenly it was her mother's face before her. The sense of love and calm was overwhelming. She felt warm and light and safe. She could feel her mother's arms and hear her voice. "Temperance, I love you. I want you to be happy. I want you to live. Live and let them love you. You are loved. "Her voice echoed in Brennan's mind, she didn't want to live, she wanted to rest, to let go. She heard her mother's voice again. "Breathe Temperance. Just breathe."

XXXXXXXX

Booth could hear someone splashing, running out the other end of the sewer. He went to run after him but it was then that he saw her, crumpled, face down in the water. Not moving. In a fluid motion he raced to her side, turning her on her back. He couldn't help but let out a cry "NO!" As she lay there face up it became instantly apparent that she wasn't breathing. She would die in his arms if he didn't do something. He carried her over closest to the wall where the sewer water was shallowest. Supporting her head he took a deep breath and covered her mouth with his. As he exhaled he watched her chest rise. He repeated the action. His brain was racing, screaming, willing her to live. "Please, I can't go on without you, you can't leave me this way!"

As if by a miracle she began suddenly breathing on her own. They were shallow raspy breaths, but Booth was overwhelmed with relief. He gathered her limp body in his arms wrapping her tightly in his jacket, holding her tightly as he lifted her out of the water. His steady resolve began to crumble as he raced toward the opening. He rarely called her by her first name, it just didn't feel natural, but in that moment it was the only thing he could say. "Breathe Temperance, just breathe." In the distance he could hear the steady wail of an ambulance approaching. Something felt wrong, she wasn't coming around, she just lay in his arms deathly still. He whispered in her ear over and over again. "Breathe Temperance, just breathe."


	11. You Give me Fever

"You Give Me Fever"

Pulling Brennan out of the drain and the race to the hospital had been torture. Booth held Brennan's hand as if he were anchoring her to earth. He had never been so afraid in his entire life, and he had seen things that would terrify any normal man. There was a constant flurry in the ambulance as the EMT's struggled to keep her alive. Tubes in her arm, monitors on her chest, masks on her face. It was clear from their demeanor that they had definite doubts she would survive. Booth knew otherwise, Brennan was nothing if not a survivor, or so he hoped, he prayed.

If he had thought the short drive in the ambulance was heart-wrenching the wait at the hospital was a hundred times worse. Over the next three hours hoping for some news, the waiting room filled with Brennan's friends all looking to Booth for answers. Answers he didn't have. As a doctor finally came to update her condition it was obvious that there was still immanent danger. A doctor, one so young that Booth questioned if he had gone through puberty, rattled off numbers, procedures, statistics. He looked to Cam, his face pleading for her to break it down. "A few broken ribs, a broken leg, some internal bleeding, but she is developing pneumonia. " Cam said as she looking into the haggard faces of her friends. "The injuries won't kill her, but the pneumonia still could. We won't know anything until she wakes up."

Booth raced back beyond the glass door. His eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room. At first he was startled at the sight. The dark bruises across her pale cheek, the gash that went across her lower lip. The cast that covered her left leg. The tubes and wires protruding from her delicate arm. He heard the soft beeping of the heart monitor, and the sound of oxygen supporting her labored breathing. The ICU is usually reserved for family, but no one dared to stop Booth as he took up residence in the chair beside her.

Doctors came and went, young and old, male and female. They made notes on charts, they adjusted IVs and said very little. Nurses came too, to wipe her fevered brow, to offer him coffee, to administer drugs. He tried to ask how she was doing but the medical talk was beyond him; he usually left the science to Brennan. But they all said the same thing. Until she woke up they wouldn't know the damage the near-drowning had caused and she was not out of the woods with a fever that continued to rage.

For three days he sat there, watching. A stream of people had come and gone, each trying to share in his worry, Angela, Hodgins, Cam and a string of nameless graduate students. Her father spent most of his time in the waiting room, wanting to be close but not wanting to intrude. Even her brother Russ had flown in to be by her side. Everyone agreed on two things. The thought that she could die was crushing and no one was taking it harder then Booth. Occasionally someone would try to convince him to go home, to sleep, to eat, to shower. Instead he picked at the food he brought, washed his face in the sink, was grateful for the change of clothes Angela brought from his place. He slept in fitful bouts, right by her side, keeping vigil.


	12. Three Days

Three Days

When Booth first walked into Brennan's ICU room he had been initially shocked by how fragile she looked. For three days he had sat by her side. For three days he had been there. For three days he had sat stoically as friends, colleges and doctors had come and gone. What they didn't know is that in the in-between time, when it was just them, things were different. Sometimes he prayed. There was a time or two that he even cried. She had that power over him. And he was really really afraid.

Once or twice a nurse would tell him visiting hours were over. He got angry and defensive and yelled and eventually used his badge to gain permanent entrance into her room. No one believed he was on an official job. But no one dared question him either. One unlucky young nurse tried to make flirty small talk on the second day and he yelled so loud security came. Now the nurses tiptoed around him. He did feel guilty, he didn't like to take his frustrations out on good people, especially people who were there to help. What he didn't know is that he was the main topic of conversation at the nurses' station, where everyone wanted to know what was so special about that woman to have gotten such a strong man so torn up inside.

XXXXXXXXXX

The weather was warm and the sun was shining as Brennan stepped onto deck overlooking the ocean below. She closed her eyes and tried to soak up the perfect weather, she tried to heal the hole in her heart. She began to cry, heaving sobs as she leaned over the banister. How could they have left her? How could they have left her all alone? Didn't they know she needed them? Didn't they know it would break her? She couldn't breathe, she was choking on the tears that streamed down her face. Why did everyone always leave?

There was a new sense of warmth around her. As she looked up she once again was with her mother. But this time she was real. Brennan did the only thing she could. She buried her face in her mother's shoulder and let herself be held tight and she allowed years of pent up emotions to race out of her. Her mother's soft hands stroked her daughter's hair. A daughter she hadn't held in over 15 years. "I miss you mom…" came a sniffle. "I really miss you…"

"I miss you too baby. But I need you to listen to me. People don't always leave. Your father and I left. We did it to protect you, but it wasn't good for you. I know that. All too often children suffer the sins of the parents. And you did. But don't shut everyone out because of it. There are so many in your life that would do anything for you. That love you. That want to be there for you. You just have to let them." With that Temperance began to cry again. She cried for the losses she had faced all those years ago. She cried for all the loss of life she had witnessed in her work. Most of all she cried because she had lost everything, before she even knew what she had.

XXXXXX

Booth held her hand. He stroked her hair. He watched as she took each breath. He knew he should talk to her. That is what the others did when they came by. They talked. They tried to reach beyond the curtain and touch her. Each time he tried, he failed to gather the words. Occasionally he could gather himself enough to talk about outside things. Who was winning the hockey game, what funny joke Parker had just told him on the phone. He even tried to theorize with her what he thought would happen between Angela and Hodgins. Anything to avoid talking about how he really felt, anything to avoid the weight on his chest.

Once or twice he fell asleep leaning over the bed, his head resting on her hand. He wanted to feel connected to her. Somewhere she had to know he was there, she had to know that he desperately wanted her to open her eyes. To yell at him. To say he was being stupid. Anything. Max and Russ joined him for a large part of the third day. They had pulled in chairs to watch a hockey game. They became a comfortable threesome, with a growing sense of desperation. The rules for kidnapping were strong, the chances of recovering the victim go down after 24 hours. The rules for unconsciousness were the same. They were going into hour 62 at the hospital, not that Booth was counting.

XXXXXXXXXX

It felt so good to be with her mother. She realized that she hadn't really felt that same sense of calm since her mother left her. Down on the beach, she could feel the sand through her toes. An overwhelming sense of sadness as she once again realized that everything was gone. There was someone else in her life that could make her feel safe and warm and loved. But he was gone. And all she wanted to be was with him. "Where is Booth? How can I find him? "

Her mother's face looked a little sad. "You have to go back. You still have a life to lead, a difference to make." Brennan pulled back "No! There is nothing there. They are all gone! I am alone! Please please let me stay with you!" Her mother just held her hand. But it felt different. It was no longer soft, but rough and strong and familiar. "Booth…." She whispered. A knowing smile was on her mother's face "He loves you, if you'll just let him. He is waiting for you." Shock settled into the pit of her stomach. How could she have been so easily fooled. They weren't dead, they were waiting for her! She started running down the beach. When she looked over her shoulder, it was as she suspected. Her mother was gone.


	13. Realizations

**Author Note: Thank you all for the reviews! You can not believe how much they motivate me and really are a boost to the spirit. I still am not sure how it is all going to play out. They are both so stubborn! I hope you enjoy this chapter. **

Realizations

Her eyes opened very slowly and her eyelids felt like they were made of some combination between lead and sand paper. She wasn't dead, her brain was still obviously firing; she wouldn't be in so much pain otherwise. For just a moment panic rose in the back of her throat like bile, the fear surged through her. A wave of relief washed over her as she was finally able to focus in on his face and realized his hand was intertwined with hers. Her rock, pensively sleeping propped up in the visitor's chair. Booth! He really was alive. If Booth were here with her it must mean that she was safe, that they all were safe. The words her mother had spoken had been the truth. Her head swam and tears streamed down her face. She felt like she was trying to breathe peanut butter, and a nearly inaudible moan escaped her lips. Booth instantly sprang awake and was right at her side. "Bones! Bones! Can you hear me!??." The worry and urgency of his voice penetrated her dream like state. For just a moment she allowed herself to feel his strong fingers cupping her face, trying to wipe the tears.

She painfully reached up to remove the oxygen mask from her face, but could only squeeze out a breathless. "Booth..." He stroked her face and pushed the mask back on. "Hey, leave that on. You're safe, I am here. Just rest." Brennan faught to keep her eyes open. "You're here." She could see the concern etched into deep worry lines and shadowed eyes. A dark growth across his face let her know that he had been by her side for days. She had never known him not to be closely shaved. "Of course I am here, where else would I be? The gravedigger tried to kill you. But you're safe, and in the hospital, and like I said you need rest. You have pneumonia." Awareness of her surroundings finally sunk in, a dark quiet hospital room. It was eerily quiet except for the sound of beeping medical equipment ; it was obviously the middle of the night. "The gravedigger?" The words came out in barely a whisper. The weight in her chest was nearly unbearable.

She tried to gather strength. She had to tell Booth what she could remember, which right now was cloudy at best. The clearest picture in her mind was her mother, of their time together. Looking at her gently, her dear partner softly kissed her forehead and once again told her to sleep. With those words she lost her fight for consciousness and dreamlessly drifted off. In the dark, feeling at once both an overwhelming sense of relief and dread, his mind continued to race. He recognized the irony that he spent the past 3 days begging her to wake up and he was now telling her to sleep, but this sleep was purposeful and restful. His heart nearly burst with the love he felt for her, with the knowledge that he still had the opportunity to do something about it. But now how was he going to keep her safe? Keep them all safe? He watched her, struggling to breath, praying that God would take care of her. Even if she didn't believe there was no one more deserving of His grace.

When she awoke again she knew it had been at least several hours. The warm afternoon sun streamed down to where Booth was sitting hastily making notes in a case file. The scruff on his chin was still there, just as were to deep lines in his face. As if through instinct alone he knew at once she was awake and was back at her side. "Hey, there Bones. Good to see you again."

"Did you catch him?" Her voice still strained and raspy.

His face gave away the answer before he even spoke. "When I got there he was gone, you were my priority. He had left you to drown, wanted you to die, in the sewer water. I wasn't even sure that I had gotten there in time…" trailing off his strained voice gave a clue as to the fear he had felt. Once again Booth had saved her life. "Do you remember anything about him?" Booth was conflicted. He knew she needed rest and shouldn't be stressed, but the more time that passed the more likely the object of his rage would get away. He leaned over the chair and took a recorder out of a black bag and set in on the edge of her bed.

"Things come in flashes." Came a small whisper. "I was at the lab. He came dressed as a delivery man. Things went black. I was inside the trunk of his car. The trunk was dark and covered in several inches of dirt. " Brennan felt the fear wash over her again as she remember the terrified feeling of being trapped once again in a gravedigger car. Booth's hand slid into hers and she found the contact calming and continued. "I don't know how long I was in the trunk, but after awhile the car stopped and I tried to make an escape, but the stun gun again and blackness."

"Did you see his face?" His clothes? " Booth was desperate to keep it together, to protect her. There was no way to protect her both from the memories and the very real threat that was still living. It was hard for him to accept how close he came to losing her. But he pressed on. The best way to help her was to get that SOB off the face of the planet, forever.

She continued her story, showing incomparable strength, it took less than 10 minutes. Relaying each detail as completely as possible, the things she saw, the things he said. Pausing periodically to breathe deeply in the oxygen mask and regain her composure or to suppress a coughing spell. Her eyes still glistened with fever and her face was drawn in pain, both physical and emotional. It was almost impossible to keep her eyes open, the effort was exhausting, but she knew that to catch him would require as much information as possible. Booth was troubled by listening to her recount the pain and the fear. She told him frequently how good she was at "compartmentalizing"; he soon realized this was not a quality he possessed. No matter how hard he tried to depersonalize, this was his Bones lying there.

When she told about the hearts in the box, he was surprised how emotional it made him, even though he already knew. The agents had found the box deep in the storm drain, and the moment they told him about the St. Christopher medal he knew the horror she had faced. It had been about fear, about giving up. This sadistic man wanted to kill her from the inside out by making her feel completely alone. He knew that he should be giving more thought to the evidence, to the clues inside that box, but he couldn't stop thinking about what it was like for her and how his "heart" was one of four in her box.

The pain he had felt thinking she was gone forever had nearly destroyed him. Had she felt the same thing, believing that he died? She had felt that way before, and it had been his fault. No wonder she punched him at his own funeral. A smile spread across his face, as he thought about that day, and that night when she found him in the tub. Perhaps she did feel something for him after all. But Brennan didn't see the twinkle in his exhausted eyes; she was already sleeping. With another casual kiss to her forehead he silently stepped out into the hallway. He had phone calls to make and a killer to catch, but somehow he would have to do it from the hospital. There was no way he was leaving her side.


	14. Friendly Advice

**Author's Note: I really did mean this story to be about the Gravedigger, but who can resist all the life and death drama. I really am looking to see where this is going. I hope that you enjoy the result! I think that my next chapter will have Booth with Hodgins having a similar conversation. What do you think?**

Friendly Advice

When she woke again, Brennan felt clearer. She looked over at Booth. She had never seen him look worse or look better. It was obvious that he had been there for days. And probably been awake for days before that looking for her. Her heart skipped a little at the thought. No one could doubt, even her, how much he really did care.

Angela strode in at that moment bringing coffee. "Sweetie!" She squealed. "Booth said you were awake but I am so relieved to see it for myself. How are you? How do you feel? Oh my God we were so scared!" Angela grabbed her and held on tightly. All the commotion woke up Booth. As he focused on the two of them he smiled. Angela and Brennan had a very special friendship, a friendship that gave Booth hope that he could someday mean something to Bones.

"Booth!" Angela cried cheerfully "You're awake too! As you can see she's fine, and you are starting to grow mold. Go home." No matter where she went or what she did there was effervescence about Angela that could not be denied. What most people didn't know was that there was a fierce persistence behind that sunny exterior. Booth grumbled and looked at Bones. She did look better, if not still frightfully pale. He was no doctor but he would guess the fever had finally broken though her breathing was still irregular. Sensing that that they needed a little alone time, he stood up and stretched painfully. This hospital chair was not going to help his sciatica. "Alright ladies, I am going to make a couple of phone calls. But I am not leaving." His eyes met Brennan's resisted the urge to kiss her "Enjoy your visit; I will be back, soon."

They watched as Booth walked out the door and Angela wasted no time getting down to business. "Have you talked with Booth yet?" "Of course" Bones replied matter-of-factly"yesterday I gave him as much of a detailed report as I was capable of, I must admit many of the details are still out of focus, and the fact is I was unconscious quite a…"

"Yes, but what are you going to say to him, knowing he has been here by your side?" Angela could be very blunt. "Well….I ….uh…." Brennan did not know what to say. She thought briefly about instigating a coughing jag to change the subject but it was hard enough to breathe as it was, especially with such a question in the air. How could she answer, what WAS one supposed to say when someone showed themselves to be so loyal, so selfless so…..ridiculously sexy? "Angela I just don't know…" that was the best she could do under the circumstances.

Angela made "The Face," one that Brennan recognized instantly. It was the one when she was, as Angela had once put it, "Trying to help her catch up to her own reality." "I mean the fact is this life and death drama is the perfect opportunity for the two of you to finally move to the next level. You're head over heels in love and it is only a secret to the two of you. The rest of us have been taking bets on the subject for years."

Perhaps it was all the medication that was flowing through her body, but she was direct with Angela. "The subject of my love life is fodder for unregulated gambling? Any biological attraction between us is irrelevant. The structure of partnership that we havecreated does not allow for the development of other goals within the arrangement. It's…….complicated." Brennan tried to remain objectivenowing full well her the way she felt about Booth was the one thing she could never quantifiable measure or control.

"He loves you, you love him. Doesn't sound so complicated to me." Angela said firmly.

"Hodgins loves you, you love Hodgins. I don't see how that is complicated either." Brennan wasn't used to getting involved in other people's relationships; she knew it was neither her place nor her forte. She just couldn't argue logically in her weakened state.

"You're right, it shouldn't be complicated. I know Hodginsloves me. But we at least gaveit a shot. We tried. And I know that I still hope maybe someday we will light on fire again." Angela's face, always expressive looked lost and far away. Brennan instantly felt a pang of regret for bringing pain to her dearest friend. Brennan held Angela's hand and spoke softly. "I only wish that I was as strong as you are." The two friends sat on the bed for a while in silence, taking comfort in each other. Angela spoke first. "I am not strong, if I were strong I would be able to jump."

She was unable to deal with melancholy that inched into the room. Her job was to bring cheer to her infirmed friend. Angela leapt off the bed and pulled a large cosmetic case out of her bright orange shoulder bag. "I know what you need, what you need is a little pampering. It will cure what's ailing you!" Brennan had to admit that it sounded like heaven, especially if it meant getting away from this particular topic.

What Brennan didn't factor was that female beautifying rituals only heightened conversations of a most personal nature. As Angela applied a second coat of deep amethyst polish to Brennan's feet she continued to try and offer advice and comfort regarding her difficult predicament. "I really don't understand what you're so afraid of…it is obvious that he is crazy about you, he is devoted to you, the man hasn't thought of anything but you for nearly a week. You should have seen him, a man possessed. Do you know that he even passed the actual case off to another agent so that he wouldn't have to leave your side? He gave up control of something…for you"

"How long has he been here?" Brennan asked cautiously. "Seriously? Sweetie he hasn't left. You've been here nearly 5 days and he was at the lab for the night and day before. He hasn't rested for nearly a week. I know that he has seen some intense stuff, but he has some serious stamina." With that comment the two good friends smiled at each other. But the smiles couldn't last. Angela's eyes still held Brennan's as if questioning her next move.

Brennan sighed despite the fact she had slept for the greater majority of 5 days she was exhausted, and thinking so much about Booth was far from restful. Maybe the best way to she could let her mind rest was to just be forthright with her friend and be done with it. "It won't work. I will push him away; I always do…Having Booth as my partner and friend…it works. I am just not capable of promising more." Brennan turned her head away; she remembered why she didn't bare her soul more often. It hurt. Suddenly Angela was curled against her in the bed, nail polish forgotten. "You are worth it Brennan. You deserve him; you just have to let him in." Angela held her dearest friend as with a few quiet tears Brennan was once again asleep.


	15. DIchotomy

Male Bonding

Outside the hospital Booth squinted in the sun. He was tired and sore and filthy but he just couldn't bring himself to leave. Not with her here. He got on the phone and called the agent in charge. Even he knew enough to pass the torch on this case. His head just wasn't in the game. Agent Carl Miller was a good guy, a pal who would keep him in the loop and maybe kick it back once things settled down with Bones. "Miller, anything new to report? No I am not checking in on you…. Yes I trust you! …. No I….My point is….Argh!!" Booth kicked his foot in frustration, put the phone down for a minute and after several deep breaths calmly resumed his conversation. "Yes she is much better. I think the worst has past. In the next day or so she may be ready to give more details. Thanks. I will check in again soon." That conversation did not go as planned.

He walked around the grounds of the hospital and tried to get some clarity. He had rescued her. There was no debating that. But she still wasn't safe, despite the 24-hour detail he had both in the hallway and outside the hospital. Not to mention sitting next to her as her own private body guard. It wasn't enough. Not until the real gravedigger was behind bars. Really thick reinforced steel bars.

Even his dulled senses picked up on Hodgins behind him. "Hey man, Ange said you were out here. I dropped off some daisies and ran. Too much estrogen raging in that room." Booth was actually grateful for the company.

Booth felt like a caged animal even though he was outdoors. He paced back and forth like a tiger waiting for his meal. Hodgins sat back and watched. He had come to know Booth in the past few years, although they had developed a certain camaraderie it wasn't exactly a close friendship.

"How did you do start things, you know, with Angela?" Booth's question seemed to come from out of left field, but Jack wasn't surprised in the least. "I hung back and watched for a while, and then I went for it. I forgot subtlety. I made my feelings known and then let her think on it a while for a while. I let her come to me. Too bad it took nearly getting murdered for her to give up her resistance." Both men stood in silence remembering the first time the Gravedigger had come into their lives. What a difference three years makes. At yet some things were markedly unchanged.

Awkward pauses were never something that Booth handled well. It was useful in an interrogation, you would be amazed what suspects would admit in order to fill the silence, but it was no picnic being on the other side. He had to say something in order to draw attention away, "Who brought Zack back?" Instantly he regretted his choice of topic. Zack was obviously a tender subject too. Crap.

Somehow though Hodgins knew that Booth really needed to hear something other than his own ruminations. "I did. Cam thought it would be okay, and that I we would enjoy the time alone. But it was one of the most painful drives of my life. He isn't the same. That place has turned him into something cold and distant, or well, more cold and distant. He was never a competitor for Mr. Sunshine but his charming naïve genius has turned into dark robotic obsessions. I will always go visit him, he is my friend, but it will never be King of the Lab again." Loss, it was something they all faced far too regularly. Perhaps it was the defining feature that bonded their little team. Wounded creatures trying to find justice for others even if they might never be able to find any for themselves.

Although Jack recognized the symptoms were more from exhaustion than anything else, he wasn't used to seeing Booth fall apart. When WAS the last time the guy had slept? Understanding that he had to do something bold Hodgins elected to be direct. "She does love you too." Booth's gaze immediately met Hodgins with a wild desperate look. "What do you mean too? I never said I loved her."

The laughter was almost manic in nature. Hysterical Hodgins finally managed to gain enough composure to continue. "Are you serious? Hilarious! You are two of the most brilliant, observant people I have ever met, yet the blind spot you share is verging on the ridiculous! The only two people that are oblivious to your mutual attraction are well…. the two of you. We have been waiting for you guys to figure it out since Dr. Goodman was still in charge." Booth glared at Hodgins making him take a more serious tone. "Well, since we are now BOTH are aware of how you feel, maybe I can help. Why don't you tell me what's on your mind."

Booth stood for a moment unsure what to say. The fact was that the lack sleep had his resistance down. "It is the dichotomy I think that draws me in. She is so strong, yet so broken. So rational, yet at times naive. Knowing everything and nothing in the exact same moment. So generous any yet completely closed off. I have never seen anyone like her. I can see it all in her eyes. Her beautiful enchanting sapphire eyes. Subconsciously I was drawn to her the first time I worked a case with her, we weren't even partners at the time, but I was convinced it was just because she was an asset in catching killers. Where the shift happened exactly I am not sure. I went from infuriated with her to intrigued by her, to respecting her, to trusting her, to caring for her, to well…. loving her. You are right, it's been years. But what am I supposed to do, in case you haven't noticed, getting close is not something she does willingly."

Hodgins was shocked by how much Booth shared with him, honored really. "It appears to be a seamless evolution to me. It would be, even Brennan would say, perfectly rational to take the next step. I think you two could be happy together, though I am hardly an expert. I am guessing, however, that when it comes to dealing with Brennan infuriated still wins out sometime." The last comment had the desired effect, Booth noticeably relaxed and laughed. "Don't I know it."

Booth looked at Hodgins and knew Jack still had more to say. His look urged Hodgins to continue and carefully he spoke "So…you still haven't been home. You're not going to do her any good running yourself into the ground. She will need you to be strong when she gets out of here. She will be in major butt kicking mode; you know she likes to work on cases when she is pissed."

"Hodgins, I know the women-folk have sent you to get me to go home, but I repeat. Not happening."

"Well at least take a shower bud, you are starting to smell like one of my cultures and you do not pull off facial hair nearly as well as I do. People will start thinking you're a conspiracy theory mad scientist too!"


	16. Being a Brennan

Being a Brennan

There were many of the same worry lines etched on the faces of her family that she had seen in her partner. Sometimes it surprised her despite their obvious differences there where many common traits among the three men that she loved. Loyalty and strength, a certain quiet confidence, mostly she recognized similar looks in all their eyes. Even though she had spent her entire adult life pushing people away, claiming no need or want of family, here they were an awkward threesome. She looked at the pictures Russ had brought with him of Amy and the girls. For an instant the image of their faces brought up painful memories of the box. Did they know about it? Had Booth said something to them? If he had no one let on.

Thinking of Booth, it had been hours since she had seen him, she wondered if their friends had finally convinced him to go home. The conflicting emotions she felt surprised her. It was if she wanted him to stay and to go at the same time. It wasn't rational, even someone as amazing as her partner couldn't be in two places at once.

Russ did a really admirable job of trying to fill the silence. It was apparent that he had really settled into a wonderful life. "Amy has been teaching part-time at the girls' school. She took the job to be near Hayley, just in case. But I know she finds the work really rewarding." She was proud of being Aunt Temperance of two such wonderful little girls and Amy was perfect for her brother. She thought back to the first time she met them when Hayley was having a difficult time with Cystic Fibrosis; fortunately she had been doing much better. Pneumonia was really knocking her down; she had new respect for the strong little girl.

"You really are happy aren't you?" Russ looked a little surprised at the question, but answered quickly. "Tempe I wish you could know just how happy these girls make me. All my girls, you included. It is like my whole life, everything was set up to bring Amy into my life. She is my world." His face said it all, pride, hope and love.

Max smiled. Nothing was as good for a man's soul as seeing genuine joy in his child face, no matter how grown. He wanted the same kind of happiness for his daughter. Truthfully he was deeply concerned, worry that in fact had very little to do with her medical status. If anything this little "adventure" may be just the medicine she needed. Despite her stoic exterior his little girl was lonely, was hurting. Max knew that there was little he could do to help her. It wasn't him that she was pining for anymore. She would always be her father, but there was another man in her life. True love was a gift; her mother had been his gift, just as Booth was hers. If only she would stop being so blindly rational about it.

Her father took her face in his hands, kissed her and said the same thing he always did when he was feeling nostalgic. "Sometimes I am taken back by just how much you look like your mother." He paused after he said it, afraid that it would cause her pain or embarrassment. Instead she smiled, making the resemblance all the more apparent.

Perhaps this was a perfect opportunity to bring up her mother. Part of her wanted to tell the two of them about her experience, random nerve firings or not. Yet she resisted. She just wasn't ready to be honest about exactly what had gone through her mind. The magical time spent with her mother was directly connected to two truths, one that she had so willingly believed the worst and given up and two it was Booth's face that held her tightly to the earth. Despite the fact that she realized her regret was not making more of an effort in her personal relationships there were just some things you couldn't tell the men in your family.

The prospect of letting people in was harder then she thought. Her father and brother could sense that something was not quite right, that she was hiding something. But it was obvious that neither man wanted to say or do anything to upset her. They just wanted to be near, which is exactly what she wanted too. Instead they talked about what was going on in their lives and happy memories. She couldn't remember a time when conversation with either of them continued so long without argument; the hours passed so effortlessly that one might almost think they were a "normal" family. Perhaps it was because for the first time no one was trying to repair old damage, place blame, or build walls.

A pang of sadness hit when Russ left, but now that she was better he had to get back to the girls. Life continued beyond hospital walls. As he hugged her goodbye she even managed to admit that she would miss him. He smiled at the gesture and promised to bring his family for a visit very soon. After Russ was gone Max remained, sitting in the visitor's chair. He paged through a magazine Angela had left behind trying to get his daughter to take a ridiculous "What 80's movie are you? Quiz" But she was overwhelmed with exhaustion she fell peacefully asleep.

The magazine forgotten, he just sat watching her, wondering what filled her dreams. Wishing he could banish the nightmares. Knowing that despite his best efforts, he wasn't able to fully reach her. He often wished that he really had been Matthew Brennan, father of Russ and Temperance, family man. Max Keenan hurt people, the ones he loved most of all. Now he was Max Brennan, a combination of the two forces, the two sides, two parts of a whole, maybe there was hope in that.

As he wallowed in a moment the door opened as another man silently crept back into the room. This man who could banish the darkness, protect his baby, repair the hurt. Max smiled, gave a knowing nod, and left his daughter and her protector alone.


	17. Restorative Sleep

Restorative Sleep

Night had fallen and once again she saw that it was Booth who took up his position by her side. Never did she even attempt to rationalize the crash of relief his face brought her. He was watching a hockey game muted on her TV, freshly showered and shaved and wearing…scrubs? She let out a little chuckle, "nice outfit…" He turned toward her with a grin on his face. "A very nice nurse took pity on me and allowed me to clean up in the nurse's station." "Really?" Brennan grinned at him "A nice friendly nurse that hasn't even gotten her third molars yet?" Booth was surprised by this comment, not because it was scathing, that was normal. Shocking for two reasons, one she was joking and two he realized he had no desire to flirt with a young nurse. "Actually she was very….grandmotherly." Booth let his affable grin spread across his face. "She was probably 80."

Brennan couldn't contain herself she burst into laughter. It was a sound that was music to his ears, until it was interrupted by her hacking cough. He leapt to his feet and sitting on the edge of her bed began rubbing her back and offering her water. The pain in her chest caused tears to form in her eyes. How he wished there was somehow he could shield her from the pain. A thought he had many times in their past four years together. Yet no matter how hard he tried she kept building walls. Each time he thought he found a way over them she constructed another layer. He only hoped he could climb faster then she could build. "Breathe Temperance, just breathe." He repeated over and over in soothing tones, but in many ways they were shocking to Brennan. One he used her first name, which he rarely did. Two she had heard those words before.

As her breathing returned to normal she allowed herself for just a moment to relax against his chest. There was nothing in the world that comforted her more than his touch. He responded by doing what he did best. Hold her. They had never been great with words. Most times they tried to have an important conversation they would end up bickering or clam up and change the subject. Somewhere along the lines she had started showing her trust in him with physical closeness. He continued to support her as smoothed his hand over the thin gown covering her back. Brennan almost burst out telling him to never let go, but instead "Booth, you really ought to go home. I am fine. I do thank you for being with me when I was at the worst. But you should go."

She wasn't sure how she expected him to react. She could imagine hurt or angry but instead she just got….immovable. "Not happening. What part of 'I am staying here with you' do you not understand? For a genius…" His words trailed off as if she should know what he was going to say, and she did. Despite her inability to read between the lines, Booth's meaning always came across loud and clear. Right now he was radiating "Don't argue with me." Unfortunately worry was a two way street, even if it was an emotion she was not adept at expressing. "I just think that you would be more comfortable at home. I know you haven't been there in days. As a scientist I know the importance of restorative sleep…"

He interrupted her defensively, "Hey, I often sleep when you sleep." No matter how much he denied it, his face was grey with exhaustion. "Restorative sleep cannot be had in short bursts in an upright position." She could see him digging in his heels "You need to be at home and rest, I will quite happy to have you back to visit tomorrow. Besides it is unnerving having you watch me sleep" Bringing his face closer to her, nose to nose he said very slowly. "I…am…not…leaving…period." With that he helped her lay back down and returned to "his" chair. "Besides I am not watching you sleep, I happen to be watching a very important hockey game."

Why did everything have to be such a struggle? It wasn't that she didn't want him there. The truth was that his presence was incredibly soothing and an irrational piece of her WAS afraid to be alone. Despite the hundreds of hospital employees and the agents she knew were posted around as well, his was the only presence that truly made a dent in the fear. That didn't change the reality that if he continued this way, he was going to end up in a hospital bed of his own.

A hospital bed. The words set off a light in her slightly addled mind. She could have it all, rest for him while still feeling warm and safe.

"Fine." She said much to Booth's shock. "Fine, they you will just had to sleep in the bed with me." She rolled over to one side, and lifted the covers gently inviting him in. "You WILL get some decent rest." The shock on his face was hilarious to her, thought she didn't let it show. She was going to have to make it easier for him. "Hey we have shared a bed before; the circus trailer was smaller than this room. Not to mention that night in Vegas after the fight, and the dozen times we have fallen asleep on one couch or another."

The change in his face was instant. She was serious. She wanted him in the bed with her! Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the worry, or just finally seeing a crack in her wall, but he silently got up from his chair and gingerly slid beside her. She turned toward him, turned out the small light and rested her head on his strong shoulder. "Now no funny business" she chastised "we both need sleep." Booth lay stiffly in the dark for a minute trying to imagine how he came to lay there beside her. His first thought was that he would never be able to sleep feeling her body so close to his. The truth was that But her body felt comfortable, even familiar curled into his side and it took but minutes for his weary body to totally relax and to drift off into the best sleep of his life.

Staring at the ceiling she realized that maybe she made a mistake. Being held by him was something she was beginning to count on. Something that could easily become a habit. She once had said she wished he wouldn't let her hug him every time she was scared. So far he had not followed her wishes. Hugging him was always her first instinct. Looking into his sleeping face she knew. Knew that things would never be the same. She had left them with no choice. Lying there in the silence and darkness she felt something, an emotion that was new to her. The need to close her eyes, be brave, and just jump.


	18. Fish Tank

**Author Note: So I know that I have definately gotten off track of the gravedigger. But I think that is an accurate portrayal of what would happen. Compared to making sure that a friend is okay, doing your job comes secondary...but now he is back. **

Fish Tank

The two friends slept without interruption the entire night through. Soundly, deeply, peacefully intertwined with one another. Her face resting on his chest. His arm wrapped around her shoulder. Their legs crossing slightly beneath the starched hospital linens. Neither was haunted by the horrors that had surrounded them the previous week. What they didn't know was that during the night they had gathered an audience. While to them the world was far away, the large glass window provided an observation into their private moment. The image was too romantic, too heartbreaking, too perfect for anyone to ignore.

The nurses in emergency noticed them when soaking wet they first brought her in, but instantly this high drama duo was all anyone could talk about. For days the staff of ICU had watched him fret over her, and then when she awoke they saw him pull away, as if suddenly afraid of getting to near. Everyone had been confused, but as the day progressed it became clear that they were not, in fact, a couple at all. The ICU nurses were a tight bunch. They had seen it all together, life, death and the way it can tear people apart, or bring them together. They celebrated when someone recovered and helped loved ones grieve when they didn't. They had seen many patients whose family and friends waited, praying for a miracle. Surprised was not a feeling that they had often but to learn that such dedication, concern and compassion was expressed for a work colleague and friend was not their normal experience.

Gossip is something that the nurses of St. Francis were notorious for, not malicious, but totally caught up in the romance. What had occurred to make two so blindly in love work so hard to push apart? Honestly, who wouldn't be curious about the beautiful woman who was supposedly some sort of genius? What woman didn't want details about the arrestingly handsome man who was an FBI hero? This was the stuff romance novels were made of. It was like living a Lifetime Movie, and the nurses felt honored just to be cast as extras.

So when Carla walked past the window, and saw that they had finally given in, how could she deny sharing this with her overworked, underappreciated friends? It was beautiful when something uplifting came from tragedy. All night the nurses from every corner of the hospital had made some excuse to detour past the window. It had the same effect of everyone. Awe. As the night drug on, everyone got in on the drama unfolding in ICU room 6. Doctors, techs, nurses, even the cafeteria workers had eventually made their way upstairs to witness what some called a miracle. By morning it was the talk of the hospital, so when the rest of their friends arrived the next morning for a visit, everyone was dying to see what would happen next.

Angela, Cam, Sweets, and Hodgins boarded the elevator and pushed the familiar number 6. The foursome had decided to make an early morning visit to the hospital, see if anything was needed before heading to the lab for a few hours of work. The lab lay fallow for nearly a week, and the team hoped to at least return it to some sort of order before Brennan returned. Riding up, although in silence, had a much different tone than it did earlier in the week the feeling of relief was palpable. As they got off and turned down the hall to her room they noticed that a small crowd was gather outside, looking into the glass, like some sort of aquarium. Men and women, young and old had gathered intently watching whatever was happening on the other side.

In the crowd no one noticed the man wearing blue scrubs, a tuft of red hair sticking out from the bottom. No one noticed a single man that was not an employee of the hospital. No one noticed the quiet anger that filled him.

"Oh God, she is probably yelling at him." Cam said. "I am afraid to go in there. She has been too subdued for too long." The friends looked at each other and shuddered, Brennan did not do 'pent up' well. She was probably in there right now demanded that Booth drive her to the lab so she could work on a cranial reconstruction or demanding some other absurd thing.

Sweets knew better. "No I there is no animosity inside that room, the body language of the audience would give display of some other reason for their voyeurism." Confused and curious the foursome traveled down the hall, and pushed their way through for a better look.

"Well hot damn!" Hodgins spoke first. The rest of them with their mouth gapping open like some sort of fish.

Angela desperate to protect her friend, although knowing it was already too late, started shooing everyone away. "Nothing to see, just two people sleeping, don't you have any work to do? Do I need to contact your supervisor?" She turned to the FBI agent who was posted outside the door. Angela knew him to be agent Wilkens or Watkins, or something. He smiled at her, and when she opened her mouth to speak he simply said "None of my business miss, but not shocked either." When the last of the hospital employees had scattered the four stood there watching. Frozen, not knowing how to proceed, how to process what was right in front of their eyes. After all this time it was hard to believe; sound asleep the two were nestled together, smiling.

"You know this doesn't mean anything." Angela finally broke the silence. "We all know that they have been playing this game of cat and mouse for years. She had never denied that they were close friends. Right now they aren't 'doing' anything. And I for one and not going to bring it up to either of them." She added with a wink. "At least not right away."

"We need a plan because if either of them catches us staring we are sunk." Cam said quietly. "Despite the humor out of watching them squirm, I don't think it wise or fair to upset her, she is still rather ill." Sweets replied calmly, still not peeling his eyes off the couple. "We will go back down the hall. I will call Agent Booth on my cell phone, tell him we are on our way up the elevator; ask if they.." He paused to think of a plausible excuse. "moved her to a private room yet. It will give them plenty of time to….separate." So to protect their friends, at least for today, that is exactly what the little group did.

Off to the side, standing near a water cooler, he waited. It was unbelievable how easily a set of standard issue scrubs could make hospital access. No one noticed, no one cared, no one questioned. Everyone far to engrossed in their own work to question what he was doing. The buzz of "how romantic" was distracting enough for him to disappear in the background. Even the Agent outside the door seemed far to enamored with the lovely artist friend to give him another look. He couldn't believe how easy this was going to be. Playing games with him was a mistake a mistake that hoped would be deadly.


	19. Albatross

Author's note: I really want to write something about last night's episode, but honestly right now I am not sure how I feel, where I want it to go. Being that it is here in the world of fanfiction that I can control the outcome for these two. So instead I put my musings and restlessness into the story I am already shaping. I got about 4 chapters finished last night. So I will be updating quickly through the weekend.

This chapter is a little short, but I thought being that it was solely another character it deserved to stand alone. As always thanks for the support. I have really enjoyed this journey with you.

The Albatross

Carl Miller thought himself to be a good agent, hell great even. He was fairly young, had only been with the Bureau for 5 years, yet he already had amassed a decent closed case file. But even in his most confidant moment he knew that he didn't hold a candle to Booth. Seeley Booth did things that that legends were made of, legends that other agents only dreamed about, or claimed their own to pick up women in a local bar. No one doubted his ability and no one quite understood the special partner that seemed to be his lucky charm. Miller however was in over his head. How the hell, did he get stuck with this case?

He rubbed his temples and stared at the mountain of paper and evidence on his desk. The Gravedigger file was an albatross around the neck of the bureau, an absolute embarrassment. Solving this case would be akin to rescuing the damsel in the tower. Basically it was the stuff of fiction.

There was scattered evidence and most of that was questionable at best. So far they have been deceived into thinking that they had arrested this bastard twice, each time the real villain slipped through their fingers. The most recent "non-digger" was still in their custody. How the hell was anyone supposed to catch bad guys, when so many of them had blind followers willing to take the fall. When had members of society become so weak minded as to follow the rantings of a mad serial killer? And how the hell did these masterminds keep finding them?

Pushing away from his desk, Miller decided to go down to the interrogation room. Again. Just as he had every day this week. So far questioning, threatening, and bargains with this man and gotten them nowhere. They still didn't even have a name for the young man, a boy really. It made him feel a little forlorn thinking about how wrong a life could go. A life that still might not be out of high school. He wasn't in any system, apparently he never was arrested for a crime, tried to get a job with children, or enlisted in the military. His fingerprints and DNA were unknown in all databases. They even tried matching him against missing persons, but apparently no one grieved his absence.

The kid looked about twelve as Miller entered the observation room. Once again the boy was sitting in the interrogation room. Right now all they could hold him on was being in possession of a gray sedan that had some evidence of being part of a crime. They had found Dr. Brennan's blood in the trunk, for now it was enough to keep him from leaving.

He claimed to have stolen the car from outside a supermarket, and that he had just been taking it for a joy ride. How was he supposed to know that was inside? In an orange jumpsuit hanging off his thin frame he sat like stone, facing forward expression set in a hard blank stare. This guy was helping them get nowhere fast. Booth and the Bones Lady would have gotten him to talk. Somehow the two of them created such confusion with their banter; the perps always seemed to slip up. He wasn't sure if it was luck or genius. But either way it wasn't something he possessed.

It didn't him help that the medico-legal lab had all but shut down. Not that he could blame them, their center was missing. No one really expected much when they were obviously suffering. Things had gotten better since Dr. Brennan had shown she was a fighter, but getting in touch with anyone with information was an unlikely proposition. Even if they had all been there, working twenty-four/seven it impossible to analyze evidence that wasn't there. Even after all these years, they still grasped at straws.

He tried to feel honored; Agent Booth had asked him to handle it personally. Everyone knew how close he was to this case, how much it was breaking him down. The trust was touching, but overwhelming too. So far they had threatened the boy, tried to control the boy, tried to talk to the boy as a friend, tried to convince him that he could help them. Yet they were at an impasse, he was letting everyone down. He took a deep breath, and went to the door.

Was he going to play good cop or bad cop today?


	20. Let Sleeping Dragons Lie

Let Sleeping Dragons Lie

When his phone started to ring, Booth was so startled that he slipped from the bed and landed on his hip with a thud. As he reached for his pocket, he noticed that even his confusion hadn't woken her. "Booth" he said answering the phone with a wince and rubbing his side.

He was relieved that they had called first; their sleeping together was not something the squint squad needed to know. Even if it was _just sleeping. _Once again her face looked so relaxed, and he had to admit between knowing she was fine and the sleep last night he did feel a hundred times better. Maybe there was something to all this "restorative sleep" business.

As the door burst open with their little entourage Brennan finally stirred. He learned at once the meaning behind let sleeping dragons lie. From the moment she opened her eyes it was clear that she was feeling much better. And while that should have brought her friends comfort they knew instantly that this would not be the case. Calm, sweet, vulnerable Temperance was gone, and in her place was the tiger they all knew….and loved. Within fifteen minutes of her awakening the barrage of questions and demands began.

She wanted to see all of her x-rays, and make sure nothing was missed, or improperly fixed.

She wanted to know when she would be out of ICU and when she could go home for that matter.

She tried to get Angela or Hodgins to bring her some of her files from the lab.

When they refused she tried to call Wendell to get him to do it.

She wanted her laptop so that if she was 'stuck in this ridiculous bed' she could do research or work on her book.

Mostly it was clear, she wanted everyone to go back to 'normal.'

She wanted to forget the night that she had shared with Booth.

Within ten minutes of her tirade, everyone decided it was time they went to work. Everyone that is but Booth. No matter what her state of mind, or mood, she was still his responsibility. He decided to be grateful for a good night's sleep, because he was going to need it if he planned to keep her even remotely calm and resting.

He thought for a minute about demanding a tranquilizer for her…..or himself for that matter. But thought it might just make her angry…angrier. No, not angry, Booth knew she wasn't angry. Frustrated yes, bored yes, and stressed. He learned a long time ago that he can't take her quick temper too personal. No matter how she was feeling, if the emotions got too much for her, she put up walls, commanding, difficult, cranky walls.

The day stretched on with him bartering with her like a child, giving in to her in limited and controlled ways. He would fetch the x-rays of her leg to examine if she ate all her lunch first. He would leave her alone when he made phone calls if she promised to lie down while he was gone. When he returned, he brought her another peace offering, news of a transfer to a regular floor. Now she could drive another contingent of nurses crazy.

Milling around the hallway outside a red-headed male orderly silently mopped the floors. He kept his head down but his ears were listening. While there were agents posted around the hospital, they seemed to be there for show, no one expected anything to happen in the hospital. It didn't seem anyone thought he would have the nerve to show up. He heard two agents discuss him, at the change of shifts. It was laughable. They didn't seem afraid of him at all. They called him a coward, saying that he was weak for sneaking up on victims. They said he was stupid for letting her see his face. They had no idea.

Sitting in the bed was eating her up inside. It was too quiet, it was too calm, it gave her too much time to think. For the past two days her brain and been fuzzy either due to lack of oxygen or fever or the medication. Today she woke up feeling remarkably clear. It was a curse. Now she had nothing but time to dwell on all the things better forgotten. The pile of work on her desk, her unfinished chapters, the fact that someone still wanted her dead…the night with Booth.

If she were honest with herself she would admit that she was still very weak, that her chest still ached, that her leg throbbed, that her whole body seemed to burn with the dozens of bruises, cuts and abrasions. She was going stir crazy. Even though she knew her friends were not at fault, that they had her best interest at heart, they were suffocating her.

Her foul mood was not easily lifted. Being a best-selling author had definite perks. She had been assigned a bright private room that overlooked the hospital gardens. Angela brought her some of her personal items from home, and had stopped at the store as well. New cheerful yellow sheets covered the bed, and there was a green afghan from home. A few books and journals, Air fresheners to cover the hospital smells anything that would take away the sterility of the room. It was clear Angela was an artist and by late afternoon Brennan was settled in a new room that more like a five star hotel then a hospital. It barely made a dent in her disposition.

She scowled at Booth but he would just smile at her. His ease only made her more miserable. Part of her resented how easily we shrugged off her ill-humor. But she couldn't help it, she was itching to pick a fight and he was there. He seemed unflappable, strong and confidant as if it didn't matter if she hated him. He may be the only person who was as stubborn as she was, refusing to back down and leave. So without anything else to do, she ignored him reading every journal Angela had brought. Ignoring the way he looked at her. Ignoring the way he desperately wanted her to talk to him. Ignoring the fact that in her gut she knew that that there was still great danger. Ignoring their chance to jump.


	21. The Temple Jerusalem

The Temple Jerusalem

That evening Booth finally was starting to give in, perhaps if he let her work some, she would feel more at ease and finally rest. Maybe if she felt that she wasn't a complete invalid she would allow him to assist her. He always knew that this was how she dealt with stress, throwing herself into work. Was he preventing her recovery by making that difficult? He called Hodgins and asked if he could bring Brennan's laptop over. While Brennan was off having another chest x-ray he made sure that the battery was fully charged. When she returned he would allow her to do anything she wanted with it. He smiled feeling a little deceitful. His plan included hiding the power cord. That would give her about 3 hours to work until the battery reserve was depleted and no more. He thought it was a brilliant plan if he did say so himself.

It was a little disappointing to know that the smile on her face was not for him, but equipment he held in his hand. Her love of her job really was a special gift, but a curse as well. Someday he hoped to teach her how to relax, unwind, take a vacation that did not involve sifting for the remains of genocide victims. He handed her the laptop and watched as she carefully opened the lid. He explained the catch. 3 hours, no recharge, not till tomorrow. She nodded begruggedly figuring that maybe she could convince him to give her more if she promised to behave.

He instantly knew he had made a terrible mistake. As she booted up the computer and began typing away at the keys pain registered across her face. Deep searing agony that made him a little sick inside. At once he understood the problem. He picked up her hand, the hand he had so tenderly held for those first frightening days. Those first days he was to terrified to really look at her, the number of injuries she had was overwhelming, so he had focused on her life, her breathing, waking up. Now he really was able to see her. The bruises that still covered her face, neck and arms. The stitches that repaired the angry gash across her shoulder, the blue cast that covered her leg, and most horrifyingly her fingers. No wonder she was in excruciating pain. The tips of her fingers were practically mangled, raw, cut, and torn and the nails ripped off to nubs. Damn him, for an instant he was aware of the fear, she had in terror tried to claw her way out.

She pulled her hand away roughly and cradled it to her chest; the emotions crossed her face at 90 miles an hour, hurt, anger, embarrassment, frustration, anxiety, stubbornness, fear. Booth felt his heart breaking, not sure what he could do for her. He stood there paralyzed, he didn't want to push her too hard, he didn't want her to pull away. Then she did the unexpected, for the first time she cried. It had been nearly a week since he found her in that prison, but she had done what she always did. She pushed the pain away. Here it was bubbling over in horrible racking sobs. Her whole body shook as she cried.

Instinct took over and once again he sat beside her on the bed, pulling her close to his chest. She tried to pull away. It didn't matter he just held her tighter. She tried to carry the pain on her own, but it was too much. He just held her tighter. She struggled against him, at one point slamming her fists into his chest. It didn't matter. He just held her tighter. At one point she started to scream, to yell at him, to even curse him. It didn't matter he just held her tighter. Finally the fight in her was gone, it left her like a demon exorcised, and she went limp in his arms. He just held her tighter. His shirt was soaked through with her tears. He just held her tighter.

Finally she started to hold him in return. Held on to him as if it were the only thing between her and a vast oblivion. The only thing that could smother the fear, the pain, the loss. Gripping him so tightly that it nearly was impossible to breathe. He is not sure when it happened but suddenly he was crying too. Crying for the woman in her arms, crying for the pain she was in, crying at the idea of nearly losing her. For nearly an hour they sat this way. There were times she felt so out of control that she screamed out, almost as if to a ghost. The emotions so severe that she became sick, and he held her hair when she could no longer control the nausea. Several times medical personnel would come in trying to help, offering a sedative, but he silently waved them away. She didn't need to be drugged, she needed to feel these things if she had any chance of healing. He murmured in her ear. That he was there, that she was safe, that it was okay, that he wouldn't leave, that things would get better. Anything soothing that would come to mind. He pulled her into his lap and rocked her steadily.

Finally she became calm, almost eerily so. Her muscles went slack and the full weight of her collapsed into her arms. At first he was alarmed, but figured she must have simply cried herself to sleep. He went to pull away so that he could look into her face, but the second he moved she tightened her grip. He brushed back her hair, and kissed the top of her head. A measure of closeness he had noticed would sometimes calm Parker. Even that intimacy didn't make her pull away. Was it possible that she was finally learning to lean on him, to trust him, to let him in?

She felt like she was going insane. Perhaps that had been the gravediggers plan all along. To not bury her body but to leave her mind forever lost in grief. The pressure of his arms were the only thing holding her cracked façade together. His voice the only thing that separated her from madness. Suddenly she once again heard the voice of her mother. Not a voice that was in the room, but one that was part of a distant memory. _"He loves you, if you'll just let him. He is waiting for you."_

She once again slept in his arms too exhausted and emotionally drained to even think what it might mean. This night wasn't a tangle of limbs and coy glances, but desperation. For her the blackness that night was a welcome relief. Even long after she had fallen asleep, she was still cradled in his lap. He remembered nights, not so very long ago when he used to hold Parker, afraid that if he put him down he would wake. She wasn't sleeping soundly; it was a deep but fitful sleep. Her face creased with sadness. Sometimes he felt like she was finally repairing her heart, finding the strength to let someone in. Now despite the physical closeness they shared, he realized that his Bones had never been further away.

Faith had always comforted him. In times of joy and trial. He recalled the story of the Temple of Jerusalem. That it must be destroyed in order to be rebuilt. God had promised it be done in three days, Booth knew it would be a longer journey than that, but she was always worth it. Maybe hope could still blossom.


	22. Dark Rain

Dark Rain

The next morning brought rain. The dark soundless rain that seems to sap all the hope and energy out of the room. Booth wasn't sure if the weather to blame but Brennan's mood was darker then he had ever seen. Just the day before she had been difficult, but vibrant, alive . There was only one word to describe the shell in front of him. Lost. After her break down the night before she had retreated inside herself. The guilt over whelmed him. Maybe he had pushed her too hard, maybe he should have let her be sedated last night.

While she had been awake for hours, her eyes still remained bleak and unfocused. It was if she didn't see him. She didn't respond to his words, and sharply pulled away from his touch. The only time she seemed to acknowledge him was when as she shivered he brought her another blanket, and her wide sad endlessly blue eyes just stared at him. She continually pulled out her IV, and she refused to eat or drink. She finally left the central line alone at the threat of being restrained.

By end of the first day, his worry had continued to grow, was this some type of catatonia? Was there still some underlying physical ailment that was putting her life in jeopardy? Doctors came in and examined her. She would respond to basic non-verbal directions, letting them know she could hear and understand. But despite all prodding she just lay there on the bed, covers to her chin. So he did what he had done for nearly a week before. He sat by her side, wordlessly and waited, watching the patterns of rain on glass.

On the second day of darkness her father returned. Angela, Hodgins, Cam, all came but no one seemed able to reach her. She just curled into a ball, closed her eyes and ignored them. Sometimes she slept, sometimes she stared, sometimes she silently cried. Nothing seemed to shake her from the sorrow. Everyone saw how she reacted, and left fairly quickly, fearing that the pressure of their visit was doing her more harm than good. They urged Booth to do the same, but his answer was unwavering. _I am not leaving._

The doctors thought it might be some sort of stressed induced shock. In fact her blood pressure had dipped rather severely. They also said that due to the endorphins running through her body during the ordeal she may just be having some sort of crash, and would be fine soon. They ran blood tests and chemistries each one coming back "normal." Booth decided he was tired of the run around he was getting and the hospital and called Sweets. If anyone had enough understanding of both the Psychological world and the Brennan world to make sense of this, it was him.

It was like starring down a dark tunnel. She never had an out of body experience, but she guessed this was it. She could see the concern, the panic in their eyes, but she just didn't….care. It was over. The carefully built life she had was over. She was left with no choices. The panic in her stomach the pain in her heart, the memories. It was official she was haunted. Not by a ghost, she would have found solace in her mother. No it was a past that she had spent a lifetime running from and ignoring.

In one night she had managed to let it all out of its carefully hidden places. It was like a crack in a foundation. The small fissures were there but if she was careful the walls would hold. The pressure from above kept everything in line. And then he came through with a wrecking ball creating a hole so big there was no patch. It made the rest of the cracks come undone, to slide, to break, to cave. And now there was nothing left, just rubble. She had hoped that first night for death. Once again she wished that he had been better at finishing the job.

Sweets arrived, hardly believing that Booth would request him based on his expertise. Unfortunately he thought with dread; that the symptoms Dr. Brennan was experiencing may be more on par with a psychiatrist them himself. But he promised to come immediately anyway. He approached her slowly, knowing that in her state she would startle easily. He made Booth leave, under great duress, and sat down in the chair beside her.

She tried to turn and face the other side, but he held her shoulders down, she didn't seem to have the energy to resist. He spoke in dulcet tones, trying to gauge her reactions to see how much of this physical or psychological. He agreed with the doctors that there were definite aspects of shock, Post-Traumatic Stress, and a post-endorphin low. He scribbled in his pad to discuss possible pharmaceutical treatment for these conditions, even if it was only temporary. But knowing Dr. Brennan as he did, he knew that there was far more beneath the surface. He picked up her hand. It was quite cool to the touch. And he leaned down and whispered. "I know you still have fight inside you, but you and you alone must choose to use it." A single tear slipped down her cheek.

Outside in the garden, a man stood in the rain. He had been starring at the fourth floor window long enough to be fully saturated, but the man didn't care. He was a patient man. He waited years between attacks. So many thought it was about the money. While the ransom, when paid, was a nice bonus. For him it was about the game. Stalking the prey. Preparing the capture. Getting everything just the way it ought to be. It had not worked out exactly as he planned with Dr. Brennan, a few more minutes and it would be a funeral home he stalked. Yet the game was still afoot, and he discovered that the new twist was even more exciting than his original plan. How these two would pay. Pay dearly for making him out to be a fool.

Sweets was terrified of what he had to do, somehow he was going to have to convince Agent Booth that he needed to leave, it was not a choice. It was no longer out of concern for his lack of rest. What Booth didn't know was that his constant presence was enabling her, was hurting her. Booth tried to argue with Sweets but he had begun to assume to same thing himself. It broke his heart. He wasn't sure if he knew how to walk away; even he had to admit that she was deteriorating before his eyes.

A meeting was called of Brennan's family- the squints, and Max. They decided that there would be a rotating schedule. Sweets thought an organized regular rhythm would comfort Brennan but give her the opportunity to push for independence. 6 hours alone, 6 hours with someone by her side. Cam and Hodgins were on for the first day. No one else was to see her. Booth would have to wait 3 days to have his turn. But maybe Sweets was right she needed to feel alone. To feel angry at him for leaving. Damn it he needed her to feel something!


	23. Visitors

**AN: I know that this middle part may have been a bit slow going, and some of you are dying to see the change in Brennan. I hope that you can see a subtle change in attitude. Remember...everything happens eventually. I hope you stick with this! **

Visitors

Peaceful. Brennan didn't know being alone could be so peaceful. No one had expectations of her, no one was painfully looking at her. She wasn't letting anyone down. It was hard to imagine that she hated silence only a few days before, it isn't so hard once you shut down your own thoughts. Being alone with your thoughts was terrifying; oblivion on the other hand was fine. She slept, sleep was good. She kept hoping that her mother would come to her. Come FOR her actually, but she knew that was impossible. Her mother was gone, decomposing and nothing more.

After she assumed that she had been asleep for several hours, night had given into dawn. The rain had been reduced to a steely grey mist. The room was cast with shadow when she heard the door creak open. There was a small piece of her tempted to turn and face whoever her intruder was, but knew that it was better to just not move, close her eyes and try to sleep.

From the sound of the footsteps she knew it was a male. Not a doctor or nurse; wrong shoes. It wasn't Booth. She heard him settle into the high back chair. The man reached out and grabbed her had. "Hey Dr.B how are you doing today?" The voice was Hodgins.

His words meant nothing to her. And that suited her just fine. Nothing was absolutely working for her. There was silence in the room that he hoped she would fill. She didn't care what his hopes were.

Instead Hodgins filled the silence. He hadn't really expected her to say anything. Sweets had been quite clear that the state she was in may take days or even weeks to fully break. Hodgins was nothing if unconventional and so he was going for the shock factor. Maybe he could annoy her into talking. Out of his green messenger bag he brought out every underground conspiracy magazine he could lay his hands on. He settled back into the chair and for the next five hours of his shift proceeded to read every last ridiculous word out loud.

His watch told him that his shift had come to an end. Not that it mattered. The room was identical in every way to the moment he came in, except for the sun now streaming in from the window. She had turned her back to him hours ago, not that it mattered. She could hear him and she knew he was there. He leaned down to gather his things; the promise was that he would be out at noon sharp. As he passed her he placed a hand on her shoulder. His heart broke for his friend. "Dr. B. I know you can hear me, and I know that you can't quite talk to me right now and that's okay. But come back to us soon. We miss you."

Hodgins was a good man; Brennan thought how sad it was that he and Angela had not worked out. At least not yet. She found that after a few minutes she actually missed his insane ramblings. Did people really believe any of that dribble? She suddenly felt another wave of anxiety yet honestly had no idea why. That terrified her. She shouldn't be feeling this way. She was supposed to be feeling nothing.

She had hours of solitude, and for most of that time she did a near perfect job of tuning out the memories that flashed by. Occasionally one got the best of her, some fleeting image.

As late afternoon arrived so did Cam. She had a markedly different approach than Hodgins did. She decided to focus on "catching up" Brennan on all that had occurred at the Jeffersonian, it was like sitting in a conference meeting for six hours. It wasn't that Cam was all business, in fact throughout the visit she had to pause periodically to catch her breath, to quiet the worries that built up inside. While they often butted professional heads, personally these women would do anything for each other.

Their visit was interrupted several times by nurses and once by a doctor. He was noticeably upset. Apparently her vital signs were not positive, mostly due to the fact she refused to eat or drink and keeping her IV in was sporadic at best. Once again they threatened to restrain her if she didn't leave the IV in place. They no longer brought saline, instead the providing bright yellow vitamin enriched bags, trying to support her nutrient needs. But the fact of the matter was that she had lost a lot of weight since entering the hospital and was starting to show the ill effects.

As Cam went to the door, she saw a delivery man standing there with a huge bouquet of yellow roses. He was deep in conversation with the agent posted outside of Brennan's room. Something about his face struck Dr. Saroyan as oddly familiar but she figured he must have delivered flowers to the room before. It was rare a day when at least a half dozen arrangements showed up. Cam put her black leather satchel on the table and got out a couple of dollars. She reached out to hand the man his tip with one had as she opened her arms up to receive the delivery. The man looked startled, but quickly handed her the flowers. Cam smelled them "Their lovely, I wonder who they are from." She dug around and found no card, or note. The man looked at Dr. Saroyan for a moment and then just shrugged his shoulders; he turned quickly to retreat down the hall. Dr. Saroyan watched him and thought that this red haired man was someone she should know.

Brennan was sleeping as Cam found a place to put the roses and soon it was time for her to go. As she prepared to walk out of the room, she glanced at her friend lying in the moonlight, so lost and broken. It shocked Cam to realize that she looked worse now, then when she was still fighting for her life. But, Cam had to remind herself, she was still fighting for her life. If only she would stop trying to fight alone.

She woke once or twice during the night, unsurprised to find herself alone. It still was a little startling, after all of those days of familiar faces. Of one particular familiar face. It was the middle of the night and yet she felt wide awake. She turned on the light, the first purposeful movement she had made in two days. She searched for the remote to her TV. Flipping she finally found the perfect channel. Home Shopping. Their never ending inconsequential blathering was perfect for drowning out the voices in her head. She leaned back in the bed, intently watching as a cheery middle aged blonde showed of item after item of kitchenware. Nothing. Once again she felt nothing.

She had drifted off to sleep before Sweets arrived to take his shift. It was 6 a.m. and he was surprised to see the television was on. Had Brennan turned it on? He had left strict orders with the nurses not to change anything in her room. The choice was interesting. Many people enjoyed watching home shopping, they felt like they knew the hosts. Was Brennan seeking out the company of strangers?

It was hours before she woke, nearly 9 o'clock. As her eyes opened she saw his dark hair first, but wasn't surprised to find that it was only Sweets. She grimaced waiting for him to launch into some psychological tirade, how she was doing this to herself, how she had to open up, how she was mentally poisoning herself. She wait. And waited. And waited.

Sweets said nothing. He looked at her with a soft, knowing sort of compassion. Not sympathy, but empathy. She just looked back at him. Locked into some sort of staring contest, each waiting for the other to speak.

She had to give the youthful doctor credit, he was stubborn. She didn't care. The silence did not bother her in the least. Even when she closed her eyes, or turned away she could still feel him just watching her. It wasn't that he was starring, she couldn't feel his eyes burning into her or anything. It was a comfortable sort of observation.

Three hours later he stood up and placed his hand on hers. "Until next time Dr. Brennan. It was good listening to you." His joke wasn't funny.

Looking at the clock, she assumed that her visits were working on a cycle. Her prediction was that they were coming in a 6 hours on 6 hours off cycle. Which would bring her next visitor at 6 o'clock that night.

A nurse came in during the early afternoon. Changed her IVs and injected something into her central line. "You know, darling, if you would just cooperate we could take all these tubes out of ya, they can't be comfortable." Brennan tried to think how long it is has been since she ate, it was the day before it all fell apart. As a scientist and as a rational human being she knew that eventually she would have to support her body. But part of her was still hoping that she would just waste away.

When Max came he brought with him a large cardboard box. Brennan knew that something was up. Her whistled too, something was definitely up.

"Well sunshine, since you decided you're having a sick day. I thought you and I could pretend like it was when you were little. Have a real hooky day. I have old black and white movies. We'll eat junk food. I brought a deck of cards; you know how we used to love playing cards." The box overflowed onto the table. Filled with all sorts of childhood memories.

It was hard to look at. She had been doing a good job suppressing memories. It was her main objective after all. But she couldn't help but have a reaction to her father trying to fit new warm fuzzy socks over the cast on her foot. She didn't move away, she had been freezing for days.

She didn't want to feel the darkness. She wanted to feel strong again, she honestly didn't know how. Something about her father sitting there she was able to pretend that she was seven again. She had chicken pox that year; her father had taken a whole week off to take care of her. It had been just like this, movies, socks and…pink snowballs. It was comforting to be transported to a time before…everything.

She decided to watch the movie, one her favorites from childhood. A paleontologist with a brontosaurus bone, the woman with the pet leopard. It always made her smile, but she just couldn't muster one, her face remained slack. Her father was taking out all the stops. He opened one of the packs of snowballs. Stuffing one in his mouth and ripping off a small piece he tried to place it in her mouth. She had to admit the gesture was touching, and absolutely exhausting. While she ate a few small bits of snowball, she didn't stay awake long enough to see Katherine Hepburn live happily ever after.

Relief, Max felt relief as she took those three small bites of the sugary treat. While in reality it was less than a quarter of the confection, it was a sign of hope. He only wished he had thought to give her something a little more nutritious, but it was a father's prerogative to feed his only daughter junk food. It might not be good for her body but it just might be good for her soul. He kissed his sleeping daughter and left, his time with her had ended.

**Authors Note: I don't know what made me thing about "Bringing Up Baby" A fun 1930's movie with Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn. If you haven't seen it, you should!**


	24. Wonderful Things

AN: Sorry it has been so long to update, and I know a lot of you are waiting for another chapter of "Back to the Beginning." But I spent a few days in NY with family. My cousins commandeered my laptop for the entire trip!

Wonderful Things

It had nearly killed Booth being away from Brennan for two whole days. His stomach ached, he couldn't eat. His apartment felt dark and lonely. He tried to relax. He went running at the gym, the rhythm did nothing to ease the pain. For the majority of the first day he sat alone in his apartment with the blinds pulled shut finding what little solace he could in his best scotch. His phone rang several times, he always checked to make sure it wasn't the hospital. It never was so he refused to answer. He didn't need anyone checking in on him.

Despite not having been in his own bed for days, he couldn't seem to turn off his brain and go to sleep. Each time he closed his eyes the only thing he could see was her lying in that bed lost and alone. It his subconscious he could hear her calling out to him. A part of him felt like she had died. It felt that she was forever taken from him. There was nothing he could do to reach her. When he finally allowed exhaustion to pull him to sleep he dreamed of her. She stood of the edge of the ocean, a soft green dress blowing behind her in the off shore breeze. Her auburn hair gleamed in the brilliant sun. He tried to get to her, but she was so far away. The more he walked across the warm sand the further away she became. Running faster, trying to reach her. He yelled out to her. She turned toward him, reached out her hand in welcome, and smiled.

When he woke up he saw that it was nearly 10 o'clock. He hadn't slept this late since before his time in the Rangers. He felt disoriented and hung-over. A brigade of soldiers had apparently charged through his temples leaving muddy boots prints in his mouth. He rose from bed, slowly, trying to keep the room from spinning out of control. He realized it was Sunday. If he hurried he could shower and make 11 o'clock mass. Maybe this was one of those times he would need to put it in God's hands.

He sat in the last pew, eyes locked on the crucifix behind the alter. He barely heard the mass. After years of practice he could go through the motions, stand, sit, kneel, pray, cross himself, without so much as a passing conscious thought. It was during the intentions that he finally lost it. The deep voice of the pastor came shooting through his soul.

"And for the intentions we hold in the silence of our heart……..We Pray." Never before had there been a prayer he held onto so tightly. The tears came down his face again. He fought to catch his breath. He moved swiftly toward the exit, burst through the heavy wooden doors, but was followed by one of the other priests.

"God hears your prayers, son. Let your Father help you carry your burden." Booth sat down on the steps, fell really. The priest sat next to him and Booth finally said aloud all of the intentions he had held in the silence of his heart.

Long after mass was over, long after Father Dennis had left Booth. He still sat looking up at his Holy Father. He knelt down in prayer. He had prayed many times in the hospital room, holding vigil at her side, but he always felt closer to God here in his house. Deep down he had always found the dark lighting, the smell of candles and the soft organ music calming. He thought of the time she had accompanied him to church. She sat beside him questioning his faith. She might not have faith in God, but she had made it clear she had faith in him. She had told him that it was okay that he prayed for her. If only she knew how often he had prayed for her.

Finally he felt a bit of the weight lift off his heart. Enough so that he felt that he could move again. Father Dennis was right; he had to give his sorrow over to God. Booth walked out of the church into the bright afternoon sun and once again felt hope. She would make it through this; he would be there every step of the way. His spirits up, he decided to call Rebecca. He hadn't been giving his son the attention he deserved. His ex had been great about picking up the slack. It was clear she understood how difficult the past week had been and never questioned his absence. But at that moment he wanted nothing more than to see his little boy.

Fortunately Rebecca was eager to have Booth pick up Parker for a while. They were headed to the playground and he was welcome to meet them. The sight of that mop top of golden curls and impish grin was exactly the lift he needed. How had he stayed away so long? He ran to catch him as his son came across the field. He scooped his son up and threw him over his shoulder.

"Dad I am eight years old put me down!" Instead he hugged his son tightly afraid to let him go.

Finally the child kissed his cheek and wiggled free. "I missed you dad. How is Dr. Bones?"

Booth looked at his son; he didn't like to lie to him. "She is doing okay; she is still not feeling herself though." He felt that at least resembled the truth.

Parker suddenly got a bright look in his eye and turned away running toward his mother. "Mom! Mom! Where is my backpack!?"

Booth watched him intently as he took long strides across the field. Wondering what his son was rooting for in his bright red backpack. Before Booth reached him, the boy spun back around and came storming toward his father again.

The boy thrust a small ceramic item into his hand. "I made it in art class. At first the art teacher yelled at me for making something mor….mor…mortid. But I explained it was for Dr. Bones and she said that was okay."

Booth toyed with the small skull his son had handed him. It was actually pretty accurate. It had 'Love Parker' painted across the bottom in blue paint. "Morbid Parker, it means sad. But I am sure Dr. Bones will love it. She really likes you buddy." He dropped the figurine into his shirt pocket and ruffled his son's hair. Would she realize what a loving gesture his son had made? Parker was one more example of someone who loved her and needed her.

Booth promised to bring him home on time, it was a school night, but they still had a couple of hours of "guy time." Booth thought about taking his son to play mini-golf something they enjoyed doing together, but decided he still needed to blow off a little steam. They found themselves just outside D.C. at a small speedway. Parker, still too young to drive his own car, sat in front of Booth. Racing around the track Booth felt the wind through his hair, and heard his son laughing. Sometimes it was good to remember all the wonderful things life had to offer. Maybe he should go get Brennan and drive her around the track at 70 miles an hour. Could he physically shake the darkness out of her?

Deep down he knew it was far more complicated than that.

Authors Note: I know you are dying for more Gravedigger. I am getting there. I promise. Besides who doesn't love a little mop-top Parker time? The only thing hotter than Booth is Daddy Booth!


	25. Dreams and Red Herrings

**Author's Note: Well now that my other multi-chapter post finale fic has come to a close hopefully this story will move along. I am hoping to get a few chapters written as I watch a Bones marathon on TNT! Writing about BONES while watching BONES is there a better way to spend a day off? **

Dreams and Red Herrings

For the first time in a long time she dreamed. She slept not washed in memories or darkness but in the alternative reality of a dream. She had been standing on the beach. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her back and shoulders, the sea mist on her face. She heard the sand beneath her feet. She expected her mother again; she wanted desperately to be with her. Instead she waited, staring at the ocean. Watching as soundless waves crashed onto the shores. The white foam continually being brought back out to sea. Suddenly she could feel him; she had always been able to sense his warmth behind her. Slowly she turned from the ocean, and seeing his face, she smiled.

His face was still in her vision as she woke. Her heart dropped a little to find that he wasn't there waiting in the room, the chair he occupied for days on end now was vacant. It had been several days, had she run him off completely? The thought was more than she could bear, and once again she felt tears. Everything was such a mess. She had tried desperately to grip at the emptiness to push it all away. Each time she had gotten close, she ended up falling more deeply then she had the moment before. It was like a Chinese finger trap the more she tried to pull out the tighter it became.

Outside her door it was change of duty among the agents. After nearly two weeks of steadily keeping guard, there had been no sign of the gravedigger. Those assigned the case were beginning to think that perhaps standing in a hospital hallways was not the best use of their time. The two agents talked, loud enough for Brennan to hear. Guilt struck at her heart. It was all her fault, their pain, suffering, wasted time. Opening her mouth to yell at them all to go home seemed like a good idea, but raising her voice was just too much effort. She was simply exhausted. The agent that had been on the last 12 hours headed home and his replacement got comfortable at the post. Although Brennan could hear the muffled sounds, she wasn't able to see his face or his slicked back red hair.

She also didn't know was that outside in the waiting room despite the early hour, there was another meeting of her family. Max had brought them hope. She hadn't turned him away, she had looked at him, despite it all she had even managed to swallow a few morsels of snowball. Booth called it a "pink miracle food." He promised to buy whole cases of the childhood confection. Now it was time to look toward the future. What was next for Brennan.

Angela had come to the hospital today with a purpose. She wanted to get Brennan out of there. In a dream she had seen Brennan on a beach as if she had been lit from within. Happy and peaceful communing with nature. She had decided it wasn't a dream but a calling from something higher. It was time to break Brennan out of here. She got angry at their initial dismissal "Hospitals aren't for healthy people, they're for sick people. It is MAKING her sick!" Determination. It should have been her middle name instead of Pearly-Gates.

The rest of the little group had grown quiet and contemplative at Angela's outburst, her insistence. They looked toward Sweets, out of all of them he had the most expertise in this situation, was Angela's plan genius or dangerous? It was then that her actually medical team joined the meeting. Finally a consensus was made. Her physical illnesses had abated. The pneumonia had cleared, and her injuries had improved, her leg was healing nicely. Cam was a doctor and Sweets was a psychologist, as long as they were there she would have all the care she needed. They would know if she wasn't improving, if she would need to come back.

What wasn't said was that if she had to resume her hospital stay she wouldn't return to the medical recovery floor. She would have to be admitted to the psychiatric ward.

As Sweets often did, he thought it better not to reveal this little detail. It may prevent their little trip and after contemplation and conferring with the other doctors he really did think it best. As Angela had described her dream it felt familiar, like he had a similar image. There was quite a bit of research on the psychological healing power of the outdoors. Frankly the hospital was starting to even make him feel depressed.

Hodgins had been given the mission of location. He had volunteered actually. As soon as Angela described her dream he realized his had been very similar the night before. Strange. Instantly he knew the perfect place. An old "millionaire type" friend of his from college had a gorgeous place about two hours away in Henlopen Acres, Delaware. Private, beautiful, and secluded it was an exclusive town just north of Rehoboth Beach. The home, mansion really, would be large enough for all of them. State of the art security systems were another benefit of lifestyles of the rich and richer. Hopefully it would make them all feel a little safer. Walking outside he opened his cell. "Hey Ian. Its Hodgins. How's it going you red-haired bastard!? I have a huge favor to ask…."

There were things that needed to be put in place before the move could be made. Angela and Max were in charge of packing and supplies, Cam went to deal with loose ends at the lab. Sweets was going to gather together any directions, supplies and medications from the hospital. Mostly they had to make sure Brennan was really up to it. With much discussion it was decided that it would fall to Booth to prepare Brennan herself for the trip, both physically and mentally if he could. With purpose the little group went in separate direction, they had three hours to achieve their directive and return to the hospital.

A male nurse entered Brennan's room. The nurses' station had asked to check her vitals, and plant the seed of moving in her mind. Her friends thought it might go better if leaving seemed like her idea. As he fiddled with her IV and read notes in her chart, she turned toward him. A good sign as her recent instinct had been to retreat. "Well hey there sunshine! Looks like it is going to be a beautiful morning!" In that moment she looked up at him and his tousled red hair….and screamed.

**Author Note: So three men with red hair.....hmmmmm could one of them be HIM? **

**BTW Nature is totally good for the psyche...the gorgeous weather in the Northeast this week has been positively uplifting! **


	26. Grilled Cheese

Grilled Cheese

Booth's heart literally stopped beating as he ran to her room. That wasn't an angry scream or a surprised scream; that was a pure terror scream. Where the hell was the agent assigned to her door? He knocked over a supply cart as he turned the corner into her room, not that he even noticed. Blind panic was engulfing him. On instinct and adrenaline alone he grabbed the man standing at the foot of her bed by the scruff of his neck and threw him against the wall. The sheer force of the blow put a spider crack in the plaster wall.

"Wait Booth. Stop." It was a miracle how her few whispered words were capable of penetrating his rage. Another indication of how in tune he had always been to her. The full force of his rage was bearing down on the man's larynx as he spun around to face her.

"Put him down, he isn't going to hurt me. I was….wrong." It was the first time he had heard her voice since that horrible night. He was so stunned that he nearly forgot he was still holding some innocent man in a chokehold. As the moment returned he released his grip and the man dropped to the floor gasping for breath. Booth rushed to her side, not noticing the rest of their friends' entrance or the hospital staff checking on his hapless victim. Honestly in that moment he didn't care. He put his shaking hand to her face. "What happened? Are you all right? I heard you scream. I came as fast as I could. Please talk to me. Did he hurt you?"

Inside the bathroom a man with red hair and an FBI issued ID waited. That damn nurse had ruined everything. But it was clear that she remembered him, that everything that had occurred since that night had not damaged her memory. She knew him; she knew his face, or more apparently his hair. That was good, very good. This was information that could be helpful. If only that damn gun toting Neanderthal hadn't bust into his perfect opportunity. Once again he lamented toying with the agent instead of killing him on the spot. It was in fact his greatest regret. A mistake he wouldn't make twice. Now the woman, the woman would be a treasure he would enjoy keeping for a while. For now, once again he was forced to lay in wait. To imagine an hundred ways to make all his dreams come true.

Booth had hoped that somehow this incident would bring back the Bones he knew and loved. He had been wrong. She was still lying on the bed, barely moving, she actually looked grey. It didn't seem like she was going to answer any of his questions, instead she started to cry. At least that was an emotion he could help with, he hated that he was almost glad to see her tears. He gathered her in his arms and she nested into the familiar spot on his chest. His heart broke at how frail she had become, how much she had changed in three days. Angela was right, this place was killing her. She didn't pull away instead seemed drawn to him like a magnet, the force gave him hope. He held her and whispered into her ear. "Let's get you out of here."

Moving away from him, she met his gaze. Although they were dull and listless and lost the intensity of the blue was unchanged. "Can we leave now?" She wanted him to take her away. Progress. Healing. In that moment he knew he could never deny her anything. Everything in his power was hers. Yet he knew there was still work to do.

"Well" he spoke slowly, deliberately "There is a catch. You need to eat something so the doctors will take you off the IV. Once they remove them we can go. So you see it is up to you." A soft smile crossed his face as he desperately hoped she would say something, anything because he was unsure what he was supposed to do next. Instead something amazing happened.

"Grilled Cheese, I will eat grilled cheese." In that moment Booth would have taken her to any restaurant in the world for grilled cheese. A flight to Paris would be in order. Did they even eat grilled cheese in Paris? She was coming back to him. Without letting go he reached around to page the nurse's desk. They were going to need discharge papers.

Booth was might not be a genius but he was no idiot either, he wanted her to ENJOY her first meal. Instead of calling the hospital cafeteria he called Sarah at the diner. At their diner. She promised to have of the bus boys bring over a dozen grilled cheese sandwiches, fries, salad, and chocolate milk shakes. The rest of her team was due back within the hour. They were going to have an impromptu "release" party before packing up and heading to the shore.

"Okay" thought Booth, "maybe I am an idiot." In all of his excitement at the mere mention of grilled cheese it never dawned on him that a huge display of friendship and drama could be too hard for her. Fortunately, Sweets was the first to meet Booth in Brennan's room and circumvented the rest of the hoopla before it could get started. Preventing what would inevitably be a monumental disaster and set-back. The new plan had Booth and Brennan eating a quiet grilled cheese while the rest waited for them. Not that the food or celebratory attitude would go to waste.

The lobby had taken on a very jovial feel. Nurses and doctors stopped by. The lunch order had grown and the delivery kid made several trips back and forth to the diner. Burgers, fries, shakes, salads, sandwiches all continually arrived as did the hospital staff. Everyone was eager to share in this little group's happiness, some non-hospital food and a final glimpse of their own private soap opera. Anyone who had a hand in the case knew that this little family was something special, especially the woman upstairs. Everyone should be loved like this.

Angela's cell phone rang. It was Booth. The news was positive. She had eaten less half a sandwich two small forks of salad and a sip of shake. Not nearly enough to repair the damage days of not eating had caused, but enough to get the doctors to sign the final release. She was on her way down the elevator now. The party was instantly cleaned up and most of the guests pretended to return to their duties. There were still many people milling about, some having nothing to do with the waiting for Dr. Brennan. This was a working hospital after all.

They waited patiently near the exit, anxious to see her outside that room. The elevator doors opened, and for a moment they were shocked. The bright light of the sun emphasized the bruise-like shadows under her eyes. Sitting up they could see how thin and frail she had become, how her once lustrous hair now appeared stringy and dark. Booth didn't look much better, it was clear that her condition weighed heavily on them both. They desperately needed this vacation.

The little group cautiously went up to greet her, knowing that she might shut down if she became overly anxious. She was surrounded by kind faces and well wishes as the nurse pushed her wheel chair toward the door. She didn't really acknowledge their presence but she didn't turn away either. They would have to be satisfied with indifference for the time being.

They had two SUVs fully packed and ready to head out for the highway. Booth, Brennan, Angela and Max would drive in one, while Hodgins, Cam and Sweets would follow. Not sure if the front or back seat was best, Booth finally decided to he wanted her up front with him, like the good days. He leaned down, slipping his right arm under her knees and supported her back with his left. She weighed nothing as he gathered her out of the chair. Hodgins immediately collapsed her wheels and stashed it in the back of the SUV.

As Booth swung her around preparing to situate her into the vehicle, he saw him. Driving past in a green sedan without plates. The red hair flashed in the sunlight an arrogant grin across his face. He was watching them. For a moment Booth thought about dropping Brennan in the car and chasing the bastard down. But cooler heads prevailed, the maniac was already gone and attempting to follow the ghost would only cause her pain. He wasn't the agent on the case, she was his only priority.


	27. Sea Breezes

**Author Note: Once again I would like to thank everyone for thier words of encouragment. Some of you even said you read it all in a single sitting! Wednesday night I was working on this story while watching the original Gravedigger episode on TNT. (I love syndication!) Although he won't appear in this chapter it inspired the ending. Which is now written. I just need to figure out the journey that is going to get us there. This town is real. If you ever get the chance to drive through I would suggest it. While most of the best properties are obscured from view on the street some can be seen and are magnificent! Sometimes it is fun to imagine how "the other half" live! **

Sea Breezes

Driving had always been cathartic to him. Something about the combination between speed and control always helped his mind find balance. Listening to the constant hum of the motor and the endless stretch of road before him could quiet the voices in his head. She thought he insisted on driving out of alpha male tendencies or spite toward her, in reality it was the one thing that could help him regain the necessary composure after the gruesome things they saw. She compartmentalized, he drove; it was their way. There was no peace on this trip however. He was fighting a battle on too many levels; he feared at least one he would not be able to win.

During the first few miles of the trip both Angela and Max had tried to keep the mood light with generic chatter, but that quickly fell off and Booth was glad for the respite. Looking back in the rearview mirror he noticed that they had both fallen asleep. Worry is always draining for all parties involved. Occasional glances at the passenger seat only served to further his own apprehension. She hadn't really moved since he had placed her in the vehicle, seat reclined, cast sitting on the dash, eyes closed. Nothing he had said had stirred her, but she had taken his hand when he offered it. The entire drive his right hand was tied to her. Perhaps it was enough. He prayed, not for the first time, that they were doing the right thing.

Late afternoon sun somehow made the house appear even more massive. After gliding through the automatic gates, and driving down the tree lined driveway, it stood before them a white stucco and terracotta masterpiece. They were greeted by a butler, an austere silver haired gentleman named Henry. He informed them that their rooms had been readied per Mr. Hodgins request and that dinner would be served at seven p.m. He made it rather clear that it was Jack's orders that mattered. Booth was fine with that; let the bug guy deal with "the staff."

Jumping out of the vehicle Booth immediately went to her door. In one effortless movement he had the door opened, her seatbelt undone and had swept her into his arms. Her eyes fluttered open. "Hey there Bones. What do you say we go take a look at that ocean?"

Angela was right at their side. "I think that's a great idea. I will grab a blanket for us to sit on!"

Brennan tensed up in his arms. "no" she said plaintively "the sun is too bright. I am too tired." Adjusting his hold slightly Booth managed to free up one hand; he removed his sunglasses and placed them on her face. He looked into her eyes sternly. "You're going. You slept the entire way here. You need fresh air and sunshine. So just accept it. You're going." Nice Booth had taken a backseat to tough love Booth. He kissed the top of her head to soften his words, and made his way toward the beach, their friends following behind.

Crashing waves brought the smell of the sea up on the beach. The soft white sand was dotted with teal striped cushioned chairs, a table and several umbrellas. It was like walking into a private paradise. Booth could feel Brennan relax in his arms, and the wash of relief nearly made him stumble. Instead he just pulled her closer. She moved her arm and reached up to hold his neck. He walked her to the water's edge, together they looked out to where the water met the sky in a swirl of blue. Beautiful, but nothing compared to the shade of her eyes. She leaned back into his shoulder and took a steadying breath, perhaps the darkness couldn't reach her here. For several minutes they remained there, words were never needed between them. A lone white sailboat drifted into the parameters of their view and back out. Time was at a standstill in their perfect moment.

The others had set up a few things, towels, blankets, and bright colored bags, amongst the furniture. Yellow lemonade in bright blue glasses, plates of fruit, and crackers adorned the hexagonal teak table. She saw them all sitting there, waiting for her to join them. Watching her with cautious anticipation, she could almost hear them holding a collective breath. The familiar rise of panic began to set in she wasn't up for their company or their expectations. She was exhausted from the journey whether she had slept or not. "Please Booth" she whispered "I can't do this right now. Please take me upstairs."

He looked in her eyes, doe-like with fear and pleading. Ripping at his heart he knew that following her request was the only option. Overall she had done well today, it was best not to push. Perhaps after a rest she would be ready to come down for dinner. "Just so long as you know that I go, where you go." His warm brown eyes calmed her with their determination. Turning away he gave a gentle nod to the others as he continued the trek to her room.

Hodgins really had arranged everything perfectly; he had to give the man credit. The room was bright and airy, with an expansive private balcony overlooking the water's edge. In the center was a dramatic mahogany four poster bed draped with billowy sheer fabric. Warm Spanish tile-work created intricate patterns on the floor and around the door and window frames. The glow of sunlight was softened by crisp white muslin curtains. An oversized white napping couch was situated along one side of the room accented in amber and yellow pillows. To Booth's careful eyes it wasn't originally part of the room, it had probably been brought in for his benefit, another sign that Hodgins had given very specific and thoughtful instructions.

Gently placing Brennan in the center of the bed, he went over to open the French doors that lead out to the balcony. If she wouldn't go outside, he would bring the restorative sea air to her. The calm breeze caused the fabric in the room to sway gently. She watched him as he puttered around the room opening drawers, unpacking their luggage, checking the fixtures in the bathroom. Watching him in all his nervous energy was somewhat soothing. As she drifted off to sleep she could hear a sound her heart didn't even know she was missing, the distant laughter of her friends on the beach below.

It took only few minutes to have everything in the room settled but by the time he turned back to look at her she was sleeping again. Each time he watched her sleep it tore at him. This was a woman who had previously subsisted on very minimal amounts of rest and now could barely stand to be awake more than an hour or two at a stretch. Not being a doctor he had to assume it was part of the healing process both of mind and body but the fact remained that the more she slept the more he felt troubled, something else to talk to over with Sweets. As if on cue there was a light tap on the door. Booth softly opened the door and saw the young psychologist standing on the other side.

"Sweets, good to see you. She is sleeping again. She seemed to relax outside some, but then got all wound up again, begging me to bring her inside. I couldn't say no." Booth's face looked to Sweets for confirmation, it unnerved the young man to see someone he admired so much looking so lost.

"You did the right thing Agent Booth. She needs to feel that she can leave situations that cause her distress, forcing her to remain in a location that is causing anxiety will further the loss of control. Heading her request is exactly what you needed to do." He watched as Booth's face noticeable relaxed. It was clear that this man was going to need almost as much counseling as his partner.

"She is sleeping again?" His words brought back the fear on Booth's face again. "Not to worry Agent Booth. Sleep is good for her right now. Her body is still recovering from illness, injury, shock all good reasons for restorative sleep. We need to monitor to see that she isn't sleeping MORE but for right now it isn't reason for alarm. I would suggest increasing the time she is out of bed. If she is awake she should be moved.

The older man put a firm hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Thanks for everything Sweets. We couldn't be here without you. And I think you can just call me Booth. We're friends enough that you can drop the Agent."

Sweets tried to hide the pride he felt earning this man's trust and friendship. For nearly two years it had been the one thing he desired most, to be a part of this team, this haphazard interpretation of a family. There was still much to discuss, both about Brennan and how Booth himself was processing, but that could wait. Instead Sweets turned and quietly excused himself from the room.


	28. Nightmare

Nightmare

Nearly three hours later Max went up to check on his baby girl. See if perhaps he could entice her down to dinner. The smells drifting from the kitchen were intoxicating. He knocked on the door, but when no one answered he took fatherly privilege and opened the door. He entered the darkened room. She was sleeping in the center of the bed, partially obscured from view by the curtains.

He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to roust his sleeping daughter. He hated to wake her when she looked so peaceful, but she needed to eat. Something more than a few bites of coagulated cheese or fluffy treats. It didn't take much, his mere weight on the bed, had her turning toward him. "Hey sleepy head. How about you come downstairs for a little bit of dinner? This house apparently came with some world class chef!"

"Shhh please dad be quiet. Booth is actually sleeping." Booth was indeed sound asleep on the sofa, arm draped over his head. Quite a pair, his baby and the only man Max trusted with her. Max felt a surge of fatherly affection for the young man. He didn't know much his past, other than the details Tempe had confided. He knew that perhaps one reason they had found such connection is because they both understood the darkness. Not that Max would ever pry. But actions spoke louder than words, and Booth's actions told him volumes. As did his daughter's concern for him. Max had to admit the man had looked exhausted for weeks. The deep lines that had formed in his face softened in the dreamlike state. He was obviously in a very deep slumber.

"Well let me take you down to dinner, visit with friends and we will let your watch dog sleep a little longer." The twinkle in her dad's eye made the prospect of going downstairs appealing and she really hated to wake Booth with their arguing.

Looking down at her cast she inquired "Fine, but are you sure you can carry me down the stairs?"

Max winced at her words, did he look like such an old man that he was incapable of carrying her delicate frame? "I am sure I can manage." With those words he already had her up in his arms, the lightness shocking him but he gave no reaction. They silently crept from the room. Booth's steady breathing the only sound in the room.

Darkness made it impossible to see more than mere shadows. Keeping his footsteps silent was a difficult feat in the dense underbrush but the benefit of surprise was not one that he wanted to surrender. He could feel the cold steel of the gun in his hand; he could sense the men to his left and his right as they wordlessly made their way toward the clearing. It was a moonless night, but they were well trained to work under these conditions, he thrived in them. Movement gave the target away and with three quick shots he watched the shadow fall. Mission success. In that instant a spark of summer lightning lit the entire location up like mid afternoon sun. Two more minutes and their secret location would have been compromised. He looked toward his target with the second streak of lightning, but instead of the face from his dossier he saw her auburn matted with blood, her blue eyes half open in death.

"BONES!" He woke screaming, his face and back were drenched in cold sweat. For a moment his surroundings were foreign and terrifying. Darkness had indeed fallen while he had been asleep. How long was he out? He stood up in an attempt to regain his bearings. His nightmare blended with reality in a hazy sense of dread. Looking at the bed his stomach dropped. It was empty. Something was horribly wrong. Racing from the room his voice shot out in sheer panic "Temperance where are you!" Flying down the hall he continued to call her name. Racing down the stairs, into the main foyer he cursed the house for being a sprawling estate. "Temperance! Bones! Temperance!" His voice was ragged from the yelling. Barging through intricately carved double doors of the parlor, the others rushed toward the hysterical screaming.

Hodgins reached out and grasped his shoulder. "Hey man, relax she is down here with us. No one meant to startle you." Booth's eyes were still wild as if not comprehending his friend's words. "She is fine, come with us and see for yourself" Hodgins guided Booth into the parlor where everyone had gathered after dinner. Sitting on the sofa she had a green afghan across her lap covering her casted leg. She turned to face him pulsating with worry.

"Booth, I'm fine I didn't want to wake you. I never met to frighten you." She patted the end of the sofa "Come sit with me a moment. Please?" Her words sounded like they came from the dark end of a tunnel, but he obeyed still half in a trance. Her arms found their way around him, "Booth, talk to me." Her voice was soft. Not the far away whisper it had been, but soothing and comforting.

His face tucked against her hair. "I am so sorry for scaring everyone. I was dreaming. Just a nightmare. When I woke you were gone. I don't know what came over me." The small group was still huddled in the doorway. In all of the fear for Brennan it was easy to forget the psychological toll it would take on him. He always blamed himself when she was in trouble. This time was no different. Watching the two embrace on the couch was even more intimate then the morning they saw them intertwined in bed. Emotions throughout were raw and shaken, his fear brought to reality that they were still in danger. They were in desperate need of a lightening of atmosphere, a break in the tension. Or a really good scotch. Hodgins silently walked to the bar, added a solid splash to a glass, and pressed it into Booth's still shaking hand.

Three hours later the little group finally headed to bed. It was well past midnight and everyone had relaxed with a few sips of a fine amber 25 year old single malt. They had attempted to play Pictionary but everything Hodgins drew inevitably looked like bread mold, and Cam couldn't stop laughing long enough to hold a pen. Instead they sat in the formal room with their feet on the furniture reminiscing about the more curious cases they had worked on together. No one mentioned the killer still at large that still threatened their very core. But his presence hung in the room; a thick cigar smoke hanging against the ceiling in a dark rolling cloud.

Without words Booth gathered her once again into arms that were still a bit tensed after his earlier episode. Vivid dreams were something he had learned to keep at bay many years ago. Sleeping in a suspended state of readied awareness was one throwback from his sniper days with the added benefit of never quite hitting the point of dreams. Exhaustion had just gotten the better of him tonight. Yet she was safe and improving. Hopefully his outburst didn't cause her too much distress. It was bad enough that he couldn't protect her from serial killers. Now he had to worry about the danger posed by his own demons.

Maybe it was the five hour afternoon nap, the fear of the dreams, or just being unable to tear his eyes off her, but Booth was unable to sleep that night. He tossed and turned, paced the room, stood out on the balcony to stare out to the endless sky. The moonlight fractured across the ripples of waves and cast a cool blue light across the vast expanse of sand. Breathing deeply the salty night air was no solace to him. Darkness only hides the enemy, a lesson he learned long ago. It brings out the worst in men who feel safe to do evil under the cover of shadow. Men like him. The house had the restful feel of sleep but he couldn't seem to join into their slumber. Instead he turned his back to the night and once again watched the steady rhythm of her restful breathing.


	29. Morning Light

Morning Light

A thin golden streak of early morning light came to rest across his face. She sat up in the bed and watched him. Focused on the regularity in the rise and fall of his chest. His face was peaceful as he slept, and she was glad that, at least for now, he didn't seem haunted by the dreams. The night had shaken them both, but in the light of day there was once again hope. She honestly for the first time in weeks felt a sense of life. Being in this house with so many that loved her, cherished her, made it hard for the night to win. His face had always been a beacon for her, she had just forgotten for a little while.

The instincts of a sniper had him awake as he sensed her watching. At some point during the night sleep must have taken him after all. A miracle for which he was grateful. For a moment the two, tousled in sleep, just watched each other. From the open balcony doors they could hear the call of seagulls searching for an early fish breakfast. It took every ounce of self control not to crawl into the bed beside her. To feel the warmth of her touch, but as always he refrained. His greatest fear was losing her and that included pushing her away. He was still biding his time, waiting for the right moment to make his move, just like in his blackjack days.

"Morning there Bones." Booth decided to go the playful route, anything to break the silence. "Are you feeling up to a little sunbathing breakfast today?" He took the moment to move closer and perch at the foot of her bed. Although no part of his body was in contact with hers the proximity helped him find equilibrium.

"I don't know Booth; last night was a bit overwhelming. Maybe I should spend some quiet time just relaxing this morning. I feel so much better; I just don't want to push too much. I can't go back…" Her voice trailed off burning with tears. His had found hers, intertwining their fingers, offering her all the strength he had in him.

"Whatever you want, I am here." He smiled at her. "I won't force the sun-worshiping, but breakfast is a non-negotiable. Although I am guessing in a place like this you have your choice of dishes." Once again it was like the house had ears. In that instant the bedroom door opened and a young housemaid came swiftly in with a small silver serving cart. "Mr. Hodgins told me to deliver a full breakfast promptly at 8 a.m. but I wasn't to wake you. I wasn't sure how to accomplish both. Seems that is not an issue as you are already up." She was obviously relieved by this revelation. Without another word she left as quickly as she had arrived.

Booth rose from his position and went over to analyze the contents of the silver domed dishes. "Eggs, pancakes, bacon, oatmeal, toast, fresh fruit, a veritable feast! What's your poison Bones?"

Before Brennan could answer another brisk knock at the door produced Cam. It was starting to feel like Grand Central Station in her room. "The housekeeper said that you two were awake. I thought I would come up and check on Brennan. How are you feeling today? I must say your color had definitely improved. Booth would you excuse us for a moment while I examine her?" Cam could feel both Booth and Brennan tense at the suggestion; such an outward demonstration of co-dependence and affection was new for them. Cam wondered if it would last after the dust on this fiasco settled. She needed Brennan alone, so she gently escorted Booth outside the room. "Go for a walk, get some air, we will be a while." He stood in the doorway, still trying to stay, as he heard the metallic click of the lock.

Pacing in the hallway like an expectant father, he waited. What could Cam possibly be doing, saying or examining? He wished he had grabbed the carafe of coffee from the trolley before he got punted from his room. At least he could worry caffeinated instead of in a hazy half consciousness. So wrapped in trying to imagine what was going on behind closed doors, he never felt his friends enter the hall. Angela strode past him quickly, briskly knocked on the door and was swept inside. Booth stood in shock, what was going on that Angela was needed? WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON! Sweets and Hodgins flanked him to his left and his right, both trying to somehow to help him calm down.

As if by magic there suddenly appeared a full coffee service, Booth didn't even remember seeing any of the household staff. Their efficiency was slightly unnerving but appreciated nonetheless. He chugged the coffee, which was as expected outstanding. The dark rich liquid was a salve to his brittle nerves although the deep gulps singed his throat. Booth had always found coffee to be calming, he knew it was supposed to be a stimulant but to him it allowed focus. Someone once told him that it was a significant sign of having ADD, but that sounded about right to him. Sitting still had never been a forte of his, on the move is where he felt in control, and so he continued to ramble up and down the corridor.

Hodgins looked to Sweets for some answers, some psychological observation or words of wisdom that could help. Sweets merely sat on small bench in the hall and watched, fat lot of help he was. "Booth man, I wouldn't worry. It is just women folk doing girl things I am sure. She wouldn't be calling Angie in if it were a medical issue; she would be requesting Sweets assistance. Just chill, you saw her this morning; didn't she seem better to you?"

A simple nod was all the response Hodgins got. Booth feared that if he opened his mouth all the pent up ramblings would come spilling out. A deep calming breath and another cup of coffee finally had Booth able to look at Hodgins as he slid down sitting on the floor adjacent to her door. "Yeah, she seemed better. Her sleep seemed more peaceful last night. I think she almost smiled this morning, but she still looks really sick and she was fighting me about coming downstairs. I can't help but worry that last night was hard for her. I hate that my issues are making it worse for her. I can't believe I was so panicked. I feel like an idiot."

His friend sat beside him. "You fear was valid, as much as we hate to admit, there is still danger. It is obvious that you care for her, no one is going to judge you for it, especially her." They both stared ahead silent in their waiting.

At long last the door creaked open and Angela stood in the doorway looking at the three men. Sweets remained to one side, deep in concentration, as Hodgins and Booth both shot up from their position on the floor staring at her like desperate puppies. They were adorable. "I thought Cam told you to go out and take a walk Booth." Everyone knew full well that there was no way he would have followed that directive. Angela smiled as she watched Booth try to maneuver around her to get back into the bedroom; his desperation would have been comical if she didn't feel so bad for the man. She gradually stepped aside indicating his presence was welcome again and we went speeding in. She stood there wondering if these two had finally admitted to themselves that they were head over heels in love.

All of his breath left his chest as the sight. She was sitting up on the sofa directly underneath a stream perfect sunlight setting aglow her auburn hair that fell in loose curls around her shoulders. A pale pink cotton sundress brought out the natural rosy quality of her skin, masking the pallor of recent illness. But it wasn't the light touch of makeup expertly brushed across her face that made her positively radiant, it was her smile. It was more then he could ever have hoped for, as he swept her in his arms and swung her around, laughter filled the room. God bless woman folk and their girly things.

But laughter is an ephemeral thing. It is usually in the happiest of moments when guards are let down, and precautions are forgotten. As he drove toward the shore, he hoped they were relaxed and enjoying their artificial paradise. It always makes it more fun when the horror comes unexpectedly.


	30. Paradise Found

Paradise Found

It was the kind of day that remains encapsulated in memories long after the details have faded; that provides comfort on the inevitable dark days to come. The weather was a perfect balance of cool breezes and warm sun in a cloudless sky. Outside speakers had quiet music filling their private beach, with a back –up rhythm of crashing waves and seagulls. Together they sat soaking in the late morning rays. A closet of old children's game had been discovered in one of the guest bedrooms. They laughed over death matches of Hungry Hippos and Jenga. A heated game of UNO created a near riot. It was a perfect flash of time where life was simple and joy was plentiful.

Max came down as a competitive game of chutes and ladders ensued, duffel in hand. He had come to this house to see his child settled. The glow had started to return to her cheeks, and the sparkle in her eye. It could hardly count as recovery, but she was in good hands. What she didn't need was the watchful eye of her father infringing on the fun she was having with her friends. They all knew that his departure was more than merely granting her some breathing room. No one asked where he was going; some things were better left unsaid. As they said their goodbyes to the older man, Booth stood to walk him toward the waiting cab, no one heard the few quiet words that were exchanged between them.

As the activity of morning gave way to a lazy afternoon a quiet sense of calm descended on the little troupe. Angela and Cam stood along the edge, allowing the waves to wash over their legs as their feet disappeared beneath the sand, laughing with the giddiness of twelve year old girls. Both Hodgins and Booth were stretched out, half sleeping, cultivating a tan on oversized beach towels. Sweets had retreated with a psychology journal to under the shade of the pergola; the intense afternoon sun was not a friend to his fair skin. On one of the cushioned lounge chairs Brennan sat, just taking it all in. This was how she wanted to remember her friends relaxed, happy and peaceful.

Deep inside Brennan still knew that something was still very wrong. She was able to suppress the darkness enough to put on a happy face, and part of her genuinely felt comfort in their little oasis. The truth was that she still didn't feel like herself, there was still hollowness, still fear. There was still the gnawing feeling that eventually the bubble of their sanctuary would burst and what haunted her would once again swallow her whole. Denial can be a blessed thing, it allows the mind to push aside doubt, to hide underneath a plastered on smile. It allows life to continue, at least for a little while. She promised herself that she would make the most of this time, however long it would last. For a time she wanted to feel the warmth of life.

Words unspoken can be dangerous or salvation. While no one said the words aloud, they were all were aware that this perfect life was a concocted fantasy, it was an imitation of life. The real test of her recovery would be returning to reality. They knew that she was still medicated, that psychotropic drugs can create a false sense of stability, that there is no magic bullet. She may never return to the person she used to be. She was going through the motions, and everyone hoped that eventually her facade would help her cope until it was no longer an act. A wise person once said you have to fake it until you make it, although this wasn't the intended context the meaning still applied.

No one was willing to let the doubt ruin a perfect day.

They were so lost in their own fantasies that they had no idea that their location had been breached. It is amazing how much a little recognizance and an FBI badge could uncover. It still amazed him that no one had discovered him. He had been hidden in their midst for nearly a decade. Sometimes the best place to hide was right out in the open. He had rented a small sailboat at the marina in Rehoboth. While the estate was obscured from view at the road, here in the ocean a long lens camera could provide every detail of their activity. He even had managed to get pictures of her sleeping; their false sense of security was definitely to his advantage. It was like lambs to slaughter.

In the late afternoon the group broke up into their rooms to shower off the encrusted combination of sand, salt and sunscreen. Once again Brennan and Angela had locked Booth out of the room. It didn't really matter as there were six guest rooms unoccupied for him to choose from, but he hated being apart. Hodgins had made plans for the little group to head toward the bay for a quiet dinner in a private room at a local seafood house. A perfect end to a perfect day.

Debonair definitely came to mind as the men came down the stairs. No one could deny that they certainly cleaned up nice. Each had on dark suits, yet their personality made their appearance entirely different. Sweets wore an impeccable black suit, a crisp white shirt and a deep claret tie, the severity an attempt to detract from his obvious youth. Hodgins conversely looked almost casual with a green dress shirt under a slim cut black jacket, open at the collar. Booth was usually all about rugged handsome, and tonight was no different. His newly acquired tan was enhanced by a charcoal grey suit set off by a French blue shirt. White shirts and ties were strictly for work.

The women entered just as radiant. Cam was the pinnacle of sophistication in a high neck, low back champagne colored silk. Angela's was a swirl of red and orange, hypnotic as it draped over her sinful curves. Her dark hair a cascade of curls down her back. But it was Brennan that captured their attention. If they thought that her sundress was lovely tonight she was nothing short of stunning. A royal blue chiffon, draped over a single shoulder, leaving the other bare. Her hair, an intricate twist of curls at the nape of her neck, only accentuated the elegance. A gorgeous watercolor scarf of rich jewel tones was wrapped around her cast, somehow tucked in and around, making even the bulky plaster look lithe and lovely.

"Wow" Booth breathed the word unable to tear his eyes off Brennan in particular. "You look like Bond girls." And it was true. Each one of them managed in their own way to capture the quiet seduction, the independence and the mystery that belonged on the silver screen opposite non-other then 007. Sweets and Hodgins both nodded in agreement and appreciation. It took a minute to break their reverie, but Booth soon swept in guiding Brennan's chair out the door as Hodgins escorted Angela and Sweets offered his arm to Cam.

"I'm James, James Bond." Booth looked down at her with a smile. She remembered the conversation long ago when she had made that slight error after discussing his first shrink, and their now friend, Dr. Gordon Gordon Wyatt. It had been so long since he teased her and the playful banter had been missing. A game she had nearly forgotten how to play.

After a moment's pause she replied "Although no one would deny that you are a handsome dashing hero of a man, I fear you may be an imposter to the service for it is my understanding that the REAL Bond always introduces himself LAST NAME first." Booth let out the breath he had been holding. If they were ever going to reclaim the life that they had shared at some point he would have to stop walking on eggshells. This was the first time he attempted to needle her, and she had taken it and dished it right back, just like the Brennan he had always loved.

It was decided that Jack should be in charge of all vacations, his taste was impeccable. The small private deck sat off to the side and provided views of the bay from all sides. Their light hearted conversation suddenly ceased as evening fell. Booth's hand instinctively found Brennan's beneath the table, his warm fingers surrounding hers. The boats were coming into the marina as the sun began to silently slip beyond the horizon. Sunset could not have been more perfect. Angela had once talked about sunsets with the ones you love and although Brennan could scientifically rationalize it as simple earth rotation there was something more that couldn't be measured. The comfortable silence was a collective breath of awe at nature's beauty.

The food was equally divine to the setting and copious amounts of seafood graced their table. For the first time no one focused on what Brennan was or wasn't eating. Instead they all feasted on the spread before them, each bite as delicious as the last. As the residual rays of light began to fade, they were immediately surrounded by thousands of white twinkles. The boats around the marina and their own private space were all intricately laced with tiny lights that reflected off the calm surface of the bay. Their artificial glow blended with the stars above making it seem like they floated in the night sky. They were untouchable. Or so they imagined.

A few boats still slipped across the dark water, either heading toward their berth or out for a midnight ride. No one noticed the sailboat that passed the deck by mere yards. In the night no one could see his face. Their own laughter drowned out his sinister words. He decided as he watched their little party that his opportunity was upon him. The game of cat and mouse would be coming to a close, the trap had been set. He silently docked the boat in an empty slip and began his walk inland. He would have to hurry if he was to succeed tonight.


	31. Heat

Author's note : This chapter is called "heat" for a reason. In this case synonyms for heat include sultry and passionate. If that isn't your cup of tea then feel free to skip. I will make sure that all important plot points are restated at the beginning of the next chapter. I have tried to update this story quickly and I really appreciate all who have followed. I will be out of town this weekend, sans laptop making a face of frustration here making my next update Monday at the earliest. But I can still read comments and reviews from my phone. I hope that this little distraction can tide you over until my return. In the next chapter the grave digger narrates!

* * *

**Heat**

It was well after midnight before they headed home. The combination of rich food, good wine and endless laughter had the group well past exhausted. When the limousine rolled quietly back up the gravel driveway it wasn't surprised that with few pleasantries everyone made their way up to their respective rooms.

While they had been at dinner the wind had shifted. The cool gentle ocean breeze was replaced by hot stagnant summer air, the sticky kind of heat that is usually reserved for Atlanta in July. Everyone felt the sudden oppressive humidity. Although it was night, the lack of stars made it apparent that dark clouds had rolled in for the night. They threatened a summer storm, the kind that comes sudden and intense, with high winds, torrential rain and bolts of lightning. For now all was still, even the insects were silent, as if in anticipation for the next gale to rise.

As usual Booth carried Brennan up the stairs to their room. For the first time the fear and stress had reduced enough so that he was able to really wrap his head around the fact that they shared a room. Despite the numerous vacant rooms neither one suggested that he move into another. It was the first night they had retired at the same time, sans some traumatic event. While that was obviously a good thing, it did heighten the awkward quality of nighttime preparations.

Angela normally came up several times a day, including night to help Brennan take care of more personal matters. Obviously she wouldn't want Booth helping her use the bathroom or change her clothes. Tonight they had both watched a fairly intoxicated Angela slip up the stairs linked with Hodgins. It didn't take a very active imagination to get a distinct idea what events were occurring in the other wing of the house. As much as they vehemently denied their relationship it was notorious that they were still involved sexually. Unfortunately, it meant that while Angela was preoccupied with other endeavors, Brennan was without the assistance she needed.

Booth gingerly placed her on the small upholstered stool in the bathroom. For the first time she was really aware of his presence. His warm hand brushed her shoulder as he reached to slide her zipper down. He seemed to be doing it achingly slow. She had to resist shuttering at his touch. The gauzy blue fabric slipped into a cobalt puddle on the floor, a sea of fabric beneath her. She sat breathless in only a pale blue silk strapless bra and matching panty. But ever the gentleman, he averted his eyes as he eased an oversized lavender t-shirt over her head.

Without a word he crept behind her, tenderly drawing the pins from her hair. With each, a single glistening curl fell down her back. As the last strand of hair was released he reached around her to the counter selecting a flat bristle brush and a black elastic band. With several soft strokes he smoothed her hair into an easy ponytail at the nape of her neck. After all these nights watching her, he was fully aware that this was her preference for sleep.

Her eyes were closed as she tried to maintain balance with such intimate touch. The silence of the bathroom was broken by the rush of water from the faucet. He brought a warm wet washcloth to her face, wiping away any trace of cosmetics from her alabaster skin. The warmth and the friction and her emotional release caused her cheeks to tinge pink. There was nothing wrong with her arms and she was perfectly capable of washing off her makeup, but she made no move to stop him. Instead she dug her fingers deep into the fabric of her seat. Deep awareness overtook her and she nearly cried out with the shock of it.

Suddenly she felt his presence shift. Without a single sound he had left her to the solitude of the bathroom. She realized that he had situated the stool so that she could take care of the remainder of her nightly rituals privately. She took a moment to readjust her thinking, trying to allay her fears that there was anything sexual about their encounter. He was just taking care of her, like he always had done.

On the other side of the door Booth tried to bring his breathing back under control. How had he let things go so far? How had he allowed himself to take advantage of the situation, of her? He brusquely rubbed his hands through his hair and across his face, as if to erase the sensation. But he couldn't deny the tantalizing quality of watching her hair spill from its carefully arranged knot. But this was Bones. She was his partner, his friend, his anchor. She was not, could not be, an object of lust and desire. It had taken all of his power to walk away. He ripped of his jacket and shirt, tossing them across a ladder back chair in the corner. Pacing the room trying to regain control of his arousal. He was standing there bare-chested when he heard her call from inside.

As he entered she noted the ripples across his chest, the way the ridges of his abdominals dipped behind the waist of his trousers. The way the zipper of his pants refused to lay flat, pulling against some great force. Trying to suppress this side of herself was a fine practiced art after all these years. This was Booth. He was her friend, her partner, dare-she-say-it her family. He was not, could not be, an object of lust and desire. Perhaps it had been unwise to mix the wine with the medication she was on, but Cam had assured her that a single glass of champagne would do no harm. Her physical reaction told her otherwise.

All hope of control was lost as she felt his strong arms gather her up and press her against his naked torso. For a moment she was frozen, unsure what to do, but she reached up and encircled his neck with her arms. She was nose to nose with him, brown eyes swimming in blue. A hand reached up to rake through his hair. Their carefully crafted subtly was lost. They would never know who made the first move, their lips met halfway, crushing against each other with four years of repressed yearning.

The symmetry of their relationship extended into this new uncharted territory as well, his strong lips matched her smooth ones motion for motion. Just as his hand instinctively met the small of her back, his tongue found hers. Their years of playful banter executed itself brilliantly in flicks and teases as he pulled her, crashing onto the bed.

The shirt he had so carefully helped her into was discarded onto the floor, once again leaving her in scraps of satin and lace. For a moment he wondered if somehow she knew, had worn the garments just for him. Her fingers were a fury trying to undo the buckle and closures of his pants, nearly ripping at them in desperation. Low rumbles of thunder sounded in the distance, but the couple heard nothing but their own need; their own throaty gasps.

The partners lost the final remnants of that long ago line that stood between them. Across the bed a tangle of limbs and bed linens, slick with sweat, their ragged breaths began to ease into a deep and steady rhythm. A sudden bolt of blue lightening pieced the sky, filling the room with a flash of light and deep rumbles of an impending storm. They sky opened sending sheets of rain over the sea, and the sand, saturating the balcony. A perfect metaphor for their own flood. The sudden change in weather did nothing to abate the stifling heat of the room, not that it was cause for complaint.

For a moment they just looked at each other, bodies outlined in darkness, punctuated by flashes of lightning. For a moment Booth feared she would regret it all, or worse be somehow hurt. He held his breath, waiting for it all to fall apart. He wasn't sure he wanted to look in her eyes, would he see fear? Disgust? Sadness? Emptiness? Once again he cursed himself for doubting them. A wave of relief crashed over him as she looked up at him with a smile that he could only equate to a lazy, well fed house cat. She tucked against him, her body matching his own curvature, two part of the same whole. His finger traced along her shoulder, down her arm, across her stomach, causing her shiver despite the heat. Leaning in grazing against her cheek, "Sleep, Temperance" using her name as he always did to emphasis a point. She didn't argue, instead allowed herself to drift off, secure in his arms.

Down on the beach below a man waited protected from the rain by the couple's own balcony. Their extended revelry at the bay had allowed plenty of time to make preparations, and the late night assured that no household staff would be around to alert their guests that an FBI agent had been by the house that night. After his departure, he had made himself comfortable on the lounge just outside the house; in the darkness no one paid him notice. There he had listened to all the events unfold upstairs, from the open doors he could hear ever scream, ever sigh. He found his own release eavesdropping on theirs. It only proved to him that tonight was perfect. The room above became quiet and he knew that they were drifting off to the deep sleep that could only come after being well pleasured. He smiled; the lovers could spend their final moments wrapped in each other's arms. No one else would ever know their secret, because it ended tonight. It would only make it all the more painful, all the more rewarding.


	32. Glow

**Thanks to everyone with thier kind words about the last few chapters. I think you will be glad to see that we are picking up a bit here. I am sorry it has been nearly a week. I had the most wonderful weekend and it took a few days to recover! But on the plus side summer is right around the bend, For all you students out there the only thing better then being a student dreaming of summer is being a teacher...trust me we are counting down too! **

Glow

The bursts of lighting continued to come in rapid succession, sizzling across the sky like branches on a willow tree. Heavy ocean winds caused the rain to fall at sharp angles and swirl, making it near impossible to see. It whipped into the windows, causing curtain to flap menacingly. There was little notice, as the entire household was sound asleep. Most were still lazing in perfect post intimacy glow.

Brennan had been satisfied before, she felt quite confidant in her skills as a lover, and knew how to get what she needed from a man. If she were honest with herself she knew that it didn't always require anyone else. Yet here she remained in the blissful state between sleep and awake, feeling for the first time, complete. Every story she had heard of true love, real love suddenly didn't seem so preposterous after all. If all those lovers knew even a fraction of her contentment, it was no wonder that they were destined for stories or music or poetry. Booth's own words suddenly took on new and incredible meaning. She recalled each conversation, ever word of wisdom with vivid detail that she knew would fade in the morning sun. He spoke of eventually and miracles and being special. She had always seen it as a friend's palliative phrases. All those moments he had reached out to her, reached out _for_ her, and she had been so blind. But he had never given up, he had never left her, they were finally having their moment. They had caught fire.

As Booth's gaze continued down his partner's moonlit outline his mind drifted. He had thought that her friendship was enough, it would have to be. Long ago he promised himself, and her, that he would never leave her. But he had always thought they would be relegated to the role of friends. There were moments, pure flashes of time, that he felt they transcended that word. The glances, touches and words hinted at something more. Yet he had never quite been able to reach out and grab her, pull her in; hell follow through. Now he could see that he never meant for things to remain the same, he in fact had just been biding his time. He was the heart of their operation; he was the instinct, the emotion. But he had surrendered all those things to her, she held is heart in every sense of the word. Perhaps after he caught and tortured the gravedigger bastard he would thank him for this opportunity to hold her. Now there was no going back, he could never love another woman. He would never give up, never leave her, they were finally having their moment. They had caught fire.

She snuggled against him and he groaned with desire. The throaty sound only made her wiggle her hips closer against him. She was insatiable but he desperately wanted her to rest, he had to remember that she was still…delicate. He tried to keep his breathing deep and even, a pitiful attempt to make it seem like he was sleeping. She wasn't fooled, flipped back toward him and stared intently into his eyes, reading him like a book. Her oblivion to the nuance of others was legendary, but for some reason he was transparent to her. In that moment he realized that neither of them had said much tonight. It shouldn't have come as a surprise; they didn't need words to communicate. Yet he felt the words bubbling up inside him. It wasn't the time; she wasn't ready, not yet. Instead he kissed her. He didn't have to worry about letting the words slip if his mouth was busy with other activities.

He silently removed the loosened glass from the door frame, and clicked the lock open. At first he feared that the storm would wake the household, but soon discovered that in fact it helped provide him even more effective cover. The small sounds he created would easily be lost amongst the turbulent storm. He crept through the now ajar patio door, finding himself among the opulent furnishings of a small parlor. It was a shame that so many treasures would be lost tonight; it really was an impressive collection. For a moment he thought about helping himself to a few of the finer pieces. He stopped himself; he wasn't here for a robbery that was beneath him. The only prize of any value was asleep upstairs.

He slithered up the stairs, recalling the staff telling him that everyone slept on the top floor, for the best breeze and view. The secret to success was a carefully laid out plan, and tonight he had the opportunity to arrange ahead of time. Once again he was grateful for how trusting everyone was of his FBI badge. In exploring the house he discovered that most of the halls were lined with wood paneling and fabric. All perfect elements to ensure he wouldn't be followed. He would have hated for anyone to interrupt his party. He silently doused the walls with gasoline; fire was always an effective guard. They would potentially have the opportunity to leave through their bedroom windows, if they were willing to risk the three story drop to the sand below. He didn't care if they others escaped, as long as they didn't attempt to extricate the Doctor and her FBI baboon. With that thought he struck a match and tossed it mindlessly to the floor setting the entire space aglow.

He stormed the door. Before the couple even had a chance to react, he hit the agent square in the stomach with a bat, sending him sprawling to the floor. For good measure he raised the bat again coming down with full force to Booth's right shoulder blade. The sound of shattering bones was nearly deafening. She screamed but the gravedigger ignored her, continuing to approach her lover instead. The pain caused the room to pitch and spin, but Booth managed his way onto his back. He had to protect her. He searched for her face, but in the darkness only could find her scream. Suddenly in another blaring burst of lightning highlighted the red hair before him. For the first time he saw the man's face and the thundering in his mind and his heart told him his worst fears. It all suddenly came together; it had been an inside job from the beginning. All this time he had known the gravedigger, seen him every day, never suspecting a thing. His lack of instinct, his blindness was going to cost him his life.

As smoke began to fill the room Booth had only one realization left, he had failed.


	33. Smoke

Rogers.

Booth couldn't believe that he had worked so closely with the agent and never saw Agent Edward Rogers for a serial killer. His mind desperately tried to grasp at any clues that would have given the kid away. Nothing but an overly eager junior agent came to mind, though he wasn't really a kid anymore. Everyone thought he was an okay guy but practically invisible, never climbing the ladder. The lack of ambition, should that have tipped him off to trouble? It was his last thought as once again the baseball bat went crashing into his face.

Brennan continued to scream, desperately trying to move from the bed, hindered by her leg and the smoke. But Rogers was faster, snapping Booth's own cuffs around her delicate wrists as she reached out for Booth's unconscious face. How could they have gotten so close only to be ripped apart? She wanted to be with him and cried out to touch him. He ripped her back by her long auburn hair, pulling her to the floor. As she slammed chest to the ground, she didn't mind the change in position, it brought her close enough to grasp Booth's hand in hers.

The screams woke the rest of the house; it was a miracle because their rooms were all ready filling with smoke. Surely they would have died, without her cries. Disoriented Angela leapt from Hodgins arms heading for the door. Without a conscious thought she knew Brennan needed help. Hodgins grabbed her, as he noticed the flames licking from beneath, pulling her away just in time. An open door would mean instant death.

"No Jack! Let me go! She needs us!" Hodgins could see she was quickly becoming hysterical, but the dense smoke would soon render them helpless to anyone. He had to get them both to fresh air. He swept her into his arms, away from the door. Despite her advantage in height, he was deceptively solid and lifted her easily, darting toward the balcony. As he burst into the night air, she continued to cry out for Brennan.

"Oh God, where 35 feet up. Angela we are going to have to try and drop…" Jack's voice was interrupted by a violent jag of coughing. "…down closer." Suddenly his face changed as he had a flash from childhood. He had to go back in the room. As he tried to set her down she crumpled to the floor, the grief and fear had broken her. It wasn't lost on either of them that the endless screaming had suddenly stopped.

Alone in her room Cam had heard the screams too, as well as the cries that soon joined in. The crackling of the fire was unmistakable. She wondered briefly if the cries were due to burns or something …worse. Her gut was almost as solid as Booth's, and right now it was crying 'Gravedigger.' In that moment she was glad to be cool and collected. She knew that it often made her unapproachable, all business, but keeping a level head tonight would be crucial. Instinctively she found herself in the bathroom drowning as many towels as she could, jamming them around the frame of her door, to end the constant flow of black billows. She had bought herself time, but for what she wasn't exactly sure.

It wasn't that he wasn't used to sleeping along, but that didn't mean that Sweets had to enjoy it. Alone was something that he desperately tried to avoid. But Brennan had Booth and Angela had Hodgins and, well to be frank, Cam was way out of his league. Even if she wasn't 12 years older than him, for about the thousandth time he wished he could have brought someone to be his companion. The group had made every effort to include him, for the first time he really felt a part of their makeshift family, Booth had especially made an effort to reach out. Not just for his psychology expertise, but he still struggled as the "baby brother." He only hoped that he caused Booth less grief than Jared.

He was lying awake when he started to smell the smoke. Opening the door he saw that a line of fire had wrapped around all walls. Accidental fires do not progress in this fashion, nor do they bring the scent of gasoline. Someone wanted them all dead, and it didn't take a genius to figure out whom. Sweets tried not to panic, although sometimes that was his first instinct. Instead wet a towel to cover his face as he raced from the room, down the hall to where the others were sleeping. He had to help his family. For a moment he was torn between the screams and the cries coming from opposite directions. The house was in chaos, the fear palpable.

In the bedroom Brennan had stopped screaming as the man, the man Booth called Rogers, shoved a gun in her face. Instantly she recognized it. It was Booth's own weapon. This man Booth called Rogers. How did Booth know this man, how did he get Booth's gun? The buzzing sound of her brain, asking a thousand questions, not that it mattered. She had lost faith in surviving the night. She began choking, unable to breathe the dark air.

"Get up, and go to the balcony." His voice was cold, detached. Despite the fear Brennan remained unmoved. She had made a decision she would rather die here with Booth, than be taking somewhere else. She wouldn't see tomorrow anyway.

Brennan glanced at her partner, she couldn't even tell if he was alive, surely the smoke would kill them all soon. "No, I am going nowhere with you. Go ahead and shoot me."

His red hair helped make him visible despite the continuous clouds forming in the room, and he sneered. "I know you would rather I kill you here, but I won't." With that he kicked Booth in the ribs, causing him to cringe and moan, showing he was still alive. "I won't shoot you, but I will shoot him." As he raised the barrel to Booth's temple, he took away all of her choices.

"Okay, I will go with you, just leave him alone." Roger's did not try to stop her as she bent down and kissed his forehead. His eyes remained closed. "Goodbye Booth." She couldn't think of what to say, so she whispered "Thank you." Hopefully he would understand.


	34. If Only To Destroy

Author's Note: I cannot believe that I have surpassed 200 reviews. I am not the type to beg for reviews, or hold a story hostage for them (something I have yet to figure out) but I am going to acknowledge the kindness of strangers. Not only do you all make me realized I am not the only one who feels that fictional characters can exist in more than one dimension, but you embrace the vision of others. So to all who read, who share, who write… Thank you.

I know this is a shorter chapter, the next few will likely be, but I think that adds to the intensity. Don't you? 

If Only to Destroy

The house continued to burn the severity of the flames laughed even as it continued to pour outside, there is little to be done as the entire house becomes engulfed. Windows explode against the heat, precious artwork disappears as the hungry flames make their way through the house. The walls begin to crackle and warp creating a black alligator skin across everything it touched. It was alive, consuming everything, leaving only destruction in its wake.

Sweets had managed to locate Cam and alert much of the household staff. The flames in the direction of both Hodgins and Brennan's rooms were too severe, he was at an impasse. Changing directions Sweets tried to guide Cam toward the back stair case, the flames were growing more intense and it was nearly impossible to breathe. Suddenly as if from the wall itself, Hodgins was in front of them, clutching an unconscious Angela. Hodgins face was covered in soot, and one sleeve of his shirt was singed, an angry red burn underneath. He thrust Angela into Sweets arms. "Please take her, get them out. I am counting on you to save her." Before Sweets could reply, try to convince Hodgins to go with him, he had disappeared as enigmatically as had he had materialized.

Brennan soundlessly walked toward the balcony. She refused to cry for this man. She had promised he wouldn't see her cry the last time. Was everything she had been through this past month for nothing? If she had just died that night everyone she loved would be safe now, her family would not be burning around her. Booth still lay across the floor, his handsome face unmoving, but he was still alive. On the balcony she saw how he planned to take her. He had installed a zip-cord that travelled from the edge of their balcony, across the expanse of sand, to a small sailboat. He attached them to the line and pushed her over into the darkness. For a moment she was disoriented by the sudden drop, but soon was whisked directly to the deck. She wouldn't think about where the boat was going, as long as it took the evil away from her family.

A few minutes after Rodgers had taken Brennan over the balcony a small contingency of neighbors had gathered along the ocean shore. The irony of all that water useless against the flame was lost in their terror. Intent on the fire, no one noticed the small white sailboat in the water behind them, over the roar of flame no one could hear her scream. After speaking with one of the maids Sweets discovered that Booth, Brennan and Hodgins were not the only victims missing, the head butler Henry was unaccounted for as well.

Taking change of situation, Sweets began assessing if anyone was wounded. Cam seemed little worse for the wear and she was watching Angela, who remained unconscious but seemed to be uninjured. She was breathing shallowly but sufficiently. A few of those from the household staff had minor burns, and obvious signs of smoke inhalation but nothing life threatening. He also ascertained that 911 had been reached, and that all surrounding homes had been alerted in case the fire spread. With a final check on the others he noted that there was little he could do standing there. Sweets decided to head toward the other side of the house, although the back was completely impassable, there may be an opening from another direction. Ignoring Cam's admonishing, he steadily wrapped to the front.

He never should have let his guard down; just because he wore the badge of FBI didn't make him a friend of Booth's or his daughter. His past experience with FBI Director Kirby should have been enough to have him distrust them all. Max had left that morning, heading toward Virginia and what he hoped was a lead. The moment he arrived at the intended destination he knew that it had been a set-up, an attempt to separate him from those that needed him most. Speeding back toward the Delaware shore, he worried that he may already be too late.

He wasn't, the killer had not yet struck. Meeting the young FBI agent, standing guard beneath his daughter's window in the darkness, Max assumed that Booth that directed him to stand watch. He recognized the man as being one that had guarded her at the hospital as well. He must have been getting old, losing his touch, his radar should have warned him of the danger. Three bullets to the chest was the first warning that Max got that this red-haired youngster was not a friend at all. As Sweets made his way through the brush along the side of the house, he caught sight of a crumpled mass, instantly he knew it was a body. With only a second glance in the moonlight it became apparent that Max Keenan was dead.


	35. Rapid Succession

**AN: Sorry that this is nearly a week past. It seems that often things do not go according to plan. So as certain aspects of my own life fall to pieces I forgot to make things right for our dear squints. Once again this process has been very therapeutic. Originally I thought exerting a bit of control over lives, how ever fictitious, would bring joy. I found that this story leaves me just as baffled. Yet somehow the tale is still a comfort. **

**Please remember dear readers...If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans. **

He was first aware of the searing pain across his shoulder and down his arm. Each breath was agony. Everything burned as if he received a face full of acid. Booth struggled to open his eyes against the smoke, weakly calling her name, but he knew she wasn't there. He struggled to come to full consciousness, adrenaline coursed through his veins as he made his way to his feet and raced to his dresser drawer. Desperately digging, but his primary weapon was gone. He knew that there were others stashed around the room. Each place he looked turned up empty, desperation set in as he remembered the gun Brennan used to keep in her purse, surely it wasn't still there?

Brennan hit the deck of the boat with such force that it knocked the wind out of her. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't cry, she couldn't yell out into the dark night. Instead she lay there in the soaking rain, eyes fixed on the beach. Desperately she searched the windows for some sign of him moving. Perhaps there was someone inside the house looking for them, she had to believe that he would be found, and be brought out alive. A small crowd had begun to gather on the beach in front of the house, she couldn't see who they were, only their movements created black shadows against the blazing house.

Her gun felt impossibly heavy in his hand, even considering its ridiculous size, and he knew he didn't have much time. Looking out across the balcony he saw the sailboat just beyond the wave line. He was paralyzed with the possibility he would miss. What if this was what his dreams had predicted, what if he shot her instead? They were too far away; the rain and wind would make accuracy impossible. But the boat was only getting further away. Somewhere deep inside he heard a voice. "Just breathe, you can do this, there isn't a choice." Suddenly as if in dream everything faded away but his target, time slowed, his hand steadied. He knew he was seconds away from unconsciousness, but the tunnel vision was working in his favor. Three shots in rapid succession sounded from the balcony.

There was no fear anymore. She only thought with sadness that so many others were probably going to die with her tonight. Rogers kept talking, but she didn't hear his words. The only sound that her brain registered was her own heartbeat. She was fixated still on those standing along the shore. Did they even realize she was on the boat? Had they noticed their exit at all? He tried several times to make her stand, but between her casted foot, and the fall from the zip cord she was unable to support her own weight. Instead he lashed her to the sail. Perhaps her mind was finally starting to break, but she somehow envisioned herself the tragic character of an old silent film, being tethered to the railroad tracks. The humor of that image caused her to giggle. It started small and then became manic. She was losing control of her resolve, and the giggles became torrents of sobs. Three shots in rapid succession brought her back to reality.

Sweets had continued his way to the front of the house, finding that it was indeed passable. He broke a window and entered the main hall, fighting the black smoke the billowed out. He had to be crazy. He was not a rescuer. He was not an Alpha Male. He could never be the hero. He wasn't strong, or brave or lucky. He was the guy in the suit; he helped others sort out the aftermath of heroics. He was on the wrong side of the line. Yet no one knows what they are capable of until their family is threatened. Without a second thought he continued to the stairs that would lead him to Booth and Brennan's room. He could barely see as he crawled along the floor. Three shots in rapid succession told him the direction he needed to head.

The crowd on the beach continued to grow, but there was no sign of the missing. The likelihood of anyone being found alive was beginning to dwindle. Cam tried desperately to focus on Angela. It was starting to concern her that the she was still unconscious. Somehow it was probably better. She didn't yet need to know that she had probably lost her lover and her best friend in one night. Cam began to feel desperately alone, she was the only team member left standing. Why had she been spared? Would she be able to survive their loss? She was the boss but as much as he hated to admit it, her team had become her family. The others had bonded quickly; they each had very little family. It was probably what connected them, the desperate need to belong. Cam had family, more then she could handle really, but this family was different. Somehow over the years they began to mean more to her then her own siblings. Three shots in rapid succession alerted her to the still impending danger.

It was like floating, not swimming, not flying. Those were too physical. Floating was all together a mental state. Angela knew that she had fallen unconscious, she was aware that she was treading the line of this world. Her heart raced with images of Hodgins and Brennan, and Booth and Cam and Sweets. They needed her; she tried desperately to ground herself to the earth again. Three shots in rapid succession was the first sound she heard.

It was so dark, and yet he somehow remembered the way. He had crawled along, searching for the correct panel. Years of disuse made them path difficult to maneuver and broken floorboards made each movement tenuous. After making his way across the house, and up into the attic, the secret passage then lead itself to the room where all hell had surely broken loose. For once he was grateful that the wealthy were often as paranoid as he, that the house of his childhood friend had quiet ways to sneak into a room. Hodgins knew that there was no denying where the gravedigger had planned to go. As he made his way to the hidden door, he caught his breath. As he entered he would have to be ready for attack. Three shots in rapid succession made him stop dead in his tracks.

For the briefest moment Booth looked out across the water, he could see her tied to the boon of the sail. Even through the rain and the smoke and the darkness he could see the blue of her eyes, the tears streaming down her face. All this life it was those eyes that brought him comfort. It was the last thing he saw, as the smoke overtook him, he wouldn't have had it any other way. As the world went black he could hear her scream. He went crashing to the floor; his only thought was "I love you."

The heavy winds continued to pull Brennan out to sea. She watched the house fully engulfed in flames. A pool of blood, his blood, began to surround her feet. She knew it must have been Booth that shot her assailant, the bullet seem to come from the sky. No one else could have made that shot. Angels were the only other answer, and despite Booth's constant encouragement, she didn't believe in Heavenly creatures. Booth and Booth alone was her guardian. Where was he? In that moment she caught a glimpse of him, standing in the balcony doorway, surrounded by smoke and flame. Before her eyes she watched him fall and disappear behind the dark sooty cloud. She screamed, a deep visceral noise, hysteria taking over. The crash of the ocean waves and stormy winds absorbed the sound, no one could hear her. But somehow she felt him say, _I love you._ From deep in the distance she heard the approaching sirens, but knew that they were too late. He was gone.


	36. Doe

Author's Note: I know that this is an incredibly short chapter. I wanted to get it up before I left for vacation. I will be spending the next week, absorbing the sun on a cruise! I will not be posting until after the fourth. I am sure, however, that I will find lots of inspiration on trip!

Lush green foliage surrounded him. Pops of color. Red, purple, yellow, orange, pink, flowers of which he didn't know the name. The sense of calm was overwhelming. Peaceful. Serene. He didn't know where he was, but he didn't question it either. He was just happy to be there. Walking, he felt each branch brush against his arm, gently as if greeting him. Down the gravel path, he heard each crunch of his footsteps. In the distance there was the sound of running water, a small brook perhaps. The light filtered in from above, the perfect blend of light and shadow.

He soon discovered he was not as alone as he originally thought. Birds surrounded him, as did squirrels and rabbits and a passing deer. He continued on, he was searching for something. Glancing behind each bush, scanning every clearing, yet he found nothing. It was when he reached the meadow that he realized he was barefoot. The soft verdant grass sprung up between his toes. It was damp with dew and cool despite the afternoon sun. He bent down, running his hand along the blades. A softness that comparable to silk, or perfect creamy skin.

Once again he saw the deer. It was clear that it was female, and that she was watching him. Perfectly still she stood, as if waiting for him to understand. The doe had the most arresting eyes he had ever seen, a beautiful shade of crystalline blue. She stared at him, as if willing him to follow. Once again went with his instinct and trailed after the quiet deer, without a care as to why.

The vibrant smell of the grass caught his nose. A smell he was typically unfamiliar with as fresh grass usually caused his sinuses to shut down. He breathed clear and deep, appreciating the fresh scent. His brain flashed to another aroma, a warm spicy scent, a combination of orange and sandalwood. He did not know what it was, nor did he question it. Instead he broke his moment of reverie and continued to follow the doe.

He realized that the doe was leading him out of the forest. Subtly at first but then it seemed all at once the green gave way to sandy tones. The soles of his feet were no longer caressed by cool damp grass, but instead were assaulted by hot sand. The sun that was refreshing had become blindingly bright, the heat causing sweat to form along his brow. He was desperate for the sanctuary of the forest. He was drawn to its comfort. For a moment he paused trying desperately to make the decision to move forward or go back.

Across the vast expanse of sand he saw two people standing there. A woman and a young boy. He wasn't sure if he should recognize them. Her dark auburn waves, his bouncy blonde boyhood curls. Just like the doe, he was drawn to them. He wanted to be with them, to stand along the blue water's edge. They didn't see him, or they did there was no acknowledgment of his presence. Would he be an intrusion on their day at the beach? Would he be welcome to join them?

The doe was gone, as if evaporated or engulfed in the sand. Booth stood there trapped on the sand, glancing back and forth between the green forest, and the blue water. He didn't know which way he wanted to go; he didn't know which was he was supposed to go. His feet were beginning to blister; the sand was incredibly hot, searing his exposed soles. Standing there, the calm, comforting feeling began to dissipate, replaced by fear and worry. Did he retreat to his sanctuary or proceed to the beach? The pain, the heat began to intensify.

Suddenly and without warning the sand became a wall of fire on all sides.


	37. Alone

**Author's Note: I know that this is a ridiculously short chapter, and it has been a long time since I updated. I just wanted to get back into it. My vacation was AMAZING. If you ever have the chance to go to St. John in the Virgin Islands GO... It is truly paradise. I loved it so much I predict that there will be a lovely smutty one shot for B and B with that location in the very near future. :-) Anyway. I return to you all relaxed, and ready for summer. For those of you who have been following, and still love me despite my extended absence. I hope you won't be tooo disappointed! **

Cam was relieved as Angela began to come around, she was moving and her eyes had begun to flutter. It was clear that she would physically be all right, but how was Cam going to tell her that everyone she cared about were lost in the flame? How did she end up being the one to destroy Angela's life? Cam was nothing if not a realist, perhaps even a pragmatist, there was no possibility that anyone would be coming out of that inferno alive. The rest of their team was gone.

Angela's eyes locked with Cam's, they burned with remnants of the smoke, it was nearly impossible to focus. For a moment her face came into perfect clarity, and it only took a glance to have her worst fears realized. If it was Cam that was with her, then there was no one else. They were alone; she was alone. The love of her life, and her best friend had been taken from her, on the same night, by the same killer, there was nothing left. She wished that she had the energy to run back into the flame herself, to surrender to its fiery tongue. But she just lay there on the sand, curling into a ball, crying out into the night.

Sweet's had never been so terrified in his life, even when he had been beaten. The scourging he received was familiar to him as a young child. It had been localized and nothing that would kill him, or more importantly, the one's he cared about. He could grit his teeth through the pain. He wasn't sure if he would be able to deal with the loss. He continued on feeling the heat on his skin, searing into every pore, as if his clothes would ignite at any minute. The pounding of his heart was brought on by fear and his inability to breathe the dense air. There would only be minutes before he too would succumb to this death house. Minutes would have to be enough.

He nearly leapt out of his skin as the wall beside him came bursting toward him. His first instinct was to start swinging, desperate to protect himself. "Wait, wait. Hey kid. It's me!" Opening his clenched eyes Sweets saw Hodgins standing, slightly singed around the edges, in a cloud of smoke and dust.

"Jeeze Hodgins where in the heck did you come from!?" Sweets stood bewildered, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

"A passage in the wall, but there is no time for that now, come on we need to get Brennan and Booth."

Hodgins raced ahead, knowing the old house well, was definitely a benefit as the think smoke made it nearly impossible to see, as they approached the door at the end of the hall both men slammed into it with as much force as their frames could muster. Adrenaline can do amazing things and the wood smashed off its frame. The two men frantically scanned the room, trying to avoid the searing blaze, but there was no sign of anyone inside. Not Brennan, nor Booth or even a sign of the killer himself. Hodgins was filled with a combination of desperation and hope. Where were Booth and Brennan? He turned to go running out of the room; they needed to get out of the house if they hoped to live themselves. As Sweets turned to follow, he suddenly caught sight of Booth's foot, sticking through the balcony doors.

"Hodgins! WAIT!"


	38. Beat as One

Hodgins raced past Sweets, nearly pushing him to the ground in an attempt to reach Booth. He tried to rouse Booth and it became clear instantly that he was in serious danger. Rolling Booth onto his back, Hodgins didn't examine him too closely, desperately afraid for the life of his friend. One thing was clear; they were going to have to carry him. Sweets leaned down to help him pick up the man. His solid frame dead weight in their arms. As they attempted to carry him to the door a gun untangled from Booth's fingers and went crashing to the floor. As they made their way Sweets tried not to think about why the gun was in his hand, or if it had been fired. Once again the question was of Brennan's safety.

The smoke continued to build and the fire was spreading. The hallway was completely impassable. There was no way of exiting the house from the direction they came, the only way out was to go over the balcony. Placing Booth down on floor, Hodgins began screaming as loud as he could, finally getting the attention the crowd below. He could feel the room start to spin, he was suffering from lack of oxygen and from the look on Sweets face he was hurting as well. Time was running out for all of them.

Desperate shouts were finally enough to draw attention. Everyone came rushing over and few neighbors grabbed the oversized wooden table and set it beneath them. Immediately two men climbed on top making them only a few feet from those that were trapped. "Just hold on man." Hodgins spoke to Booth as he and Sweets carefully hoisted him up and over, dangling his limp body over the side, and into the waiting arms below.

Brennan tried to control her panic. Booth was gone; he wasn't going to save her. She was going to have to do what she always said she was capable of doing. Save herself. Blocking out the pain, compartmentalizing the loss, she began pulling at the ropes on her wrists. Finally able to loop a finger across she began teasing the knots apart. It was clear that had been tied in haste, with little care, as with a few swift movements she was unbound. Now she had a decision to make, which was the bigger risk? Attempting to sail the boat, or jump in and swim for shore?

Brennan decided to try and control the boat, to guide it toward the beach. The storm had increased the size of the waves dramatically and the rain impaired her vision, but she was determined. Sully had tried to teach her to sail, long ago when he thought she would leave with him. She hadn't paid very much attention because she had known deep down he wasn't the one. As she desperately tried to control the movement she wished that she had learned more. The closer she got to the shore, the more pounding the surf became, each surge threatened to capsize her. It only took an instant and a particularly high crest to keel the boat over and send her crashing into the tumultuous waters. The ocean threatened to swallow her in that instant. She fought hard against the current, each movement an attempt to break the surface. The dark swirling water was too strong, she was too weak, her cast too heavy. She was losing.

For an instant Cam couldn't believe her eyes. Hodgins and Sweets were climbing off the balcony, seeming to be fairly unscathed from their rescue mission. "Angela look!" She desperately tried to focus her friend. The grief was too much; Angela seemed unable to hear Cam. Cam got harsh and physically forced Angela to look in Hodgins direction. It only took a second for Angela to be up on her feet and racing toward the waiting his waiting arms. Cam followed and instantly rushed to be by Booth's side, something just felt wrong about the way the men placed him down on the beach. Within a moment and a quick check she knew. "Get the EMS over here! Booth isn't breathing!"

It was as if time stood still, Cam went to work desperately trying to revive Booth. Suppressing her role as friend, and ex-lover she went into doctor mode. She barely felt the presence of another woman, someone who claimed to be a nurse who immediately began breathing into Booth. Cam felt in vain for a pulse and began rhythmically pumping his chest, silently begging for any sign of life. Questions swirled in her mind, some out loud. How long had he been unconscious? Had he been injured? Was there any sign of Brennan? No one had answers.

The rumble, the confusion, the intensity; a scream broke their silence. Angela, still encased in Hodgins arms saw Sweets, drenched, standing on the shore line. He was struggling to carry an equally lifeless Brennan. He fell to his knees still supporting her body. Quietly his voice cracked. "I think she is dead….."

Hodgins raced to help, as they carried her up on the beach, laying her next to Booth. Her lips were blue, as Hodgins jumped in attempting to breathe for her. Hodgins and Sweets tried to revive Brennan as Cam continued to attempt to revive Booth. Lungs fill in breath, hands pressed to lifeless chests. The two teams fall into perfect sync, as if these two partner's hearts could beat as one.


	39. Perfect Knowing

**So this is a fairly short chapter, but I figure a quick update was well worth its brevity. **

No one dared move or even look away. The endless cycles, trying to revive the partners continued. No one voiced what on everyone's mind. At least they died together. Most people never have to witness a life in the balance. Seeing two in such extreme circumstance was more than anyone could bear and the stress of it was causing deep cracks in anyone who was there that night. But despite the seemingly impossible situation they had no choice but to hope. Fate is not something to be taken lightly and in the air there was a feeling of unfinished business, that perhaps this wasn't the end.

The dark beach was suddenly ablaze with the harsh lights of the approaching emergency vehicles. The sirens called out like a cry in the darkness. Mourning the loss of those loved so dearly. Blues and reds flashed, illuminating the determination on each face, glistening with dripping sweat, and unshed tears. No one even realized as calm and efficient uniforms took over the rescue care. The group of friends, this make-shift family huddled together trying to offer and accept comfort. Desperate to ignore the grim reality before them....

Brennan always believed that death was the end.

Booth held to the faith that it was just a beginning.

Neither expected to have a life so short, nor were they able to anticipate the journey death would be for them. It was not the singular fate that both had expected, neither would ever dare think that life would end for them in the exact same moment. Yet it was for them a shared destiny. Here at the end it was just the two of them, just as it had been in life. Their hands met instinctively just as the enveloping darkness became blinding light and at last a comforting glow. Each knew why they were there, what it meant and why they weren't alone.

That is the emotion that consumed them, not fear or grief or even relief. But an overwhelming sense of knowing. It was how Booth felt when he trusted his gut; Brennan experienced it in her absolute scientific understanding. Here the knowledge was different. It wasn't a means to an end, or a quest for the truth. Instead it covered them like a second skin filling them with perfect understanding of their past, of their life and of each other.

Booth always thought when they talked about life flashing before your eyes it would rehash his cosmic balance. A series of positive and negative moments of his life lined up ready to be measured. It wasn't that linear at all, there were no checks and balances. Instead he was filled with the basic knowledge that his life had meaning, that it was all connected. There would have been no justice without sin. The individual events blended together into a solid understanding of his life as a good man, something no one doubted but himself. In the end there was peace.

Brennan too, took in the measure of her life. Hers was not an attempt to find justice in good and evil but to find solace in her own balance of pain and joy, betrayal and loyalty. Although the journey was different the end result was the same. She saw the moments blend together; it wasn't about pain and forgiveness, or joy and sorrow. She had a sudden and complete understanding that every event was interconnected. Her life had meaning, and it was the darkness that brought about the light. It gave her the closure that nearly two decades had not.

For a moment each wondered what the other had felt, had seen. No words were exchanged; words had always been superfluous to them. There was just the constant connection of palms. Without a conscious thought they realized they were completely aware of the other's journey. Seeing it, for good and for bad, it was as clear as their own. In the stillness, in the silence it was how it always had been, they were connected beyond any rational or spiritual understanding. They merely were able to see clearly things in each other to which they were blind themselves. It was in their partners' eyes that they found completion, peace, redemption. Naturally moving into the embrace that they had discovered was second nature so long ago. Grounded in the arms of the other it went unnoticed that the warm glow had begun to fade into shadows of something else.

Their journey was not yet complete. They still had work to do…….

**AN: Fear not dear reader, the end has not yet come. Be the Booth....have faith.....**


	40. The Thinking Spot

**So another slightly angsty chapter, but hopefully you will all see the light. But not literally! Thank you all for your wonderful feedback. Our beloved BB still have so much to learn......**

There was a sense of organized chaos. A type of dance as the EMTs and paramedics worked in unison. They were experts at suppressing the emotion, of blocking out the depth of the situation. Brennan would be impressed at their ability to compartmentalize. Huge orange cases were flung open, monitors attached, tubes inserted, medication administered. All in an attempt for return of spontaneous rhythm. If they were going to fail it was not be for of a lack of effort.

Something told them that this was going to be a fight.

Darren had been a paramedic for nearly two decades. He thought he had seen everything; the very best and worst of the human experience. He had delivered babies, seen death defeated, felt the raw grief when there was nothing he could do to help. But the two patients before him were a surprise. At once it struck him how both water and fire despite being enemies of each other could both cause death. His second thought was that they were too late, despite the fact that they had two healthy adults, the time down had been too long. They should be stopping intervention, but no one was willing to admit defeat, not yet. As he intubated the man, automatically checking the placement, he felt a draw to the woman. Despite the mask on her face he could see she was beautiful. Where they lovers, friends, strangers? Years of training could not prevent the sadness that settled into the pit of his stomach.

It was the chill in the air that told Brennan that something had changed. She hated to admit the experience filled her with so many conflicting emotions. How could she feel so terrified, yet comforted and at peace? Love completely filled her yet there was a deep pang of loss. The man connected to her both in body and soul only deepened the confusion. There was no way to rationalize, to scientifically explain, to use evidence support this experience. When she had been alone on the beach with her mother it was easy to reduce it to oxygen deprived neuron firing and hallucination. But she knew as surely as she knew the 206 bones of the body that this was something different.

Extricating herself from Booth's warm embrace Brennan tried to take stock of their new surroundings. It was the catwalk surrounding the lab platform. Instinctively she knew why they were here, it was her thinking spot. How many cases had she puzzled her way through in this very position? Everyone thought it was her intense study that always yielded her epiphanies, but even she recognized the need to adjust perspective once in a while.

Especially when the questions that swirled around had nothing at all to do with bones.

She had been brought here to puzzle the question in her mind. The one she didn't dare ask to Booth aloud. A single tear slipped down her cheek. There was only one explanation that matched the evidence. In that moment she turned off the brain and as he had told her so long ago she shifted her heart into over drive. She allowed herself a moment to grieve for both of them, for their family and friends, for Parker.

Fear swept over her as she realized his hand was no longer settling on her back. Spinning around she saw him, as he often was, half propped against the doorway of her office. The look in her eyes must have given the fear away and immediately he returned to her side.

"When are you going to trust that I am NEVER going to leave you?"

His words were simple, their meaning direct. She said nothing in return but instead took his hand, entertaining her fingers with his. Leaning down he kissed her damp cheek. She only had to look at him to know. He had already come to the realization of what was happening to them, he had hung back while she came to the same conclusion.

"I'm sorry about Parker." Her voice nearly broke to say it, to know what she had cost the sandy-haired boy. Instead he looked tenderly at her, his finger gentle beneath her chin as he held her gaze. "Hey, we will both be missed, but I wouldn't have changed a thing....." As she had done so many times before she found comfort in his strength. It just was against her nature to turn off her brain entirely. A single question couldn't be quieted. If they were dead, where were they? Somehow she felt Booth was quite sure of the answer. As she felt his hands rub comforting circles on her back, she knew. They had come here so she could find answers. Answers that never needed a lab at all.

She wasn't sure how she felt. What she mad at him for being right?

Or was she just happy to be in heaven with him?

Booth allowed the moment to wash over him. He equally struggled with joy and regret. Her mention of Parker broke his heart, but the loss of his boy was salved by the auburn curls tucked beneath his chin. He couldn't regret promising her forever. Not really. He tried to make sense of what they were experiencing. In those early moments, after the deer, the forest, the fire, the darkness, suddenly he felt her with him. He had silently wept. If she was beside him it meant that he had failed. In the end it wasn't enough to protect her. The grief didn't last, somehow her hand in his just felt right.

His eyes opened, quickly registering that they were no longer in the lab, the soft cream walls of her office had given way to sweeping murals and marble columns. They were in his place now, where he came for answers. The smell of candles washed over him as he looked down at the woman in the pew next to him. For a moment he remembered another time, another battle with the gravedigger, when she had sat beside him in this very church. She had questioned his faith, as she did all things, without apology. He wanted to know what she was thinking, what that hamster wheel of hers was focused on, death was not something her science could fully explain. Yet her face didn't betray her innermost secrets. In fact she looked almost serene. Was it possible that she had already made peace with their fate? That would be just like her, he thought with a smile.

It the quiet peace of the sanctuary he slowly began to gather his own thoughts. Despite the fact that he had an entire lifetime to prepare for the thought of heaven, his brain apparently didn't process the actual event as distinctly as his partner. His own mind reeling with a thousand thoughts about everything and nothing. The cop in him just wouldn't let the case die. Ironic choice of phrase all things considering. He thought of Parker, of the squints, her hastily patched up family, and his own tattered one. There was so much he was supposed to do, to fix. Things that had nothing to do with his fear of heaven and hell, of checks and balances. There was supposed to be more time. His heart wanted to stay like this forever, to find out all the wonder that the Lord had readied for him, for him and the love of his life. Yet something in his brain could not rest. For the first time he decided that perhaps his heart should not lead the charge. Instead he would bring out his inner squint and trust his spongy grey matter instead.

He looked at her,all of her. The light on her hair, the small smile on perfect silken lips. He knew. He simply knew.

"Bones….we have to go back."

In a single moment everything can change. Sometimes all you need is a second. In that second Darren was sure his life, his beliefs would never be the same. "Well I'll be damned...." his voice merely a whisper. It was enough to garner the attention of everyone on the beach. A collective gasp ran through the crowd as they saw it for themselves. Darren collected himself; he was still running this call. "Let's go people. We're not done yet!" Carefully he readied the man for transport as the other group did the same. As he looked at the two monitors in perfect sync, matched in a slow but sustainable rhythm. He let out a breath he hadn't realized had been trapped. Two hearts beat. It was hardly a guarantee, their time without a pulse was significant, but it looked like it might be a night for miracles after all.


	41. Oxygen Deprevation

It was a blur, a dream, a frenzied race, as two ambulances sped off toward the nearest hospital. A few remaining paramedics set out to tend the injuries of the others. Bumps and bruises, minor burns and smoke inhalation. They were in no danger but it was recommended that they all receive a thorough check at the hospital. They were especially concerned with Angela's head and the crackling sounds in both Hodgins' and Sweets' lungs. No one paid them any attention; they all were desperate to follow their friends to the hospital.

Cullen and several other FBI agents were in the ER waiting for the ambulances arrival. A team had been sent ahead to secure the scene but Cullen wanted the story directly from Booth and collaboration from his team. While appraised of the situation it was clear Cullen was ill-prepared for the sight of his best field agent and his partner. From the moment the stretchers came bursting through the door it was clear that the situation was grave. The value of life was forefront on Cullen's mind; his heart genuinely ached with concern. Quickly suppressing the emotion Cullen turned to the agents, stone-faced, and quietly stated. "All right gentlemen, we still have an investigation to run." No one was fooled by his calm demeanor as he gave directives to each agent; it was a well known Hoover fact that Cullen had a soft-spot for the pair.

"Booth, we can't just DECIDE to go back. That is illogical."

"Hey you can't use logic on me now! By your own admission where we are, what we are doing here is completely illogical. According to you…. right now we should be nothing but worm food."

"I don't recall ever using the term 'worm-food' but despite my earlier misgivings it would appear that current evidence supports your earlier assumption in an after-life. I do not however see any indications of an option. We have no choice in life or death. If there was that potential, we would be without profession, because which of our victims would choose to die young, nameless, in fear...." She was starting to ramble and her steady voice had increased a half octave indicating her stress immediately. He knew only one sure way to calm her and covered her mouth with his.

At first the contact surprised her. Had it really only been a few hours ago that he had first kissed her? Made love to her? Was it the fact that they were dead that made it feel so new and yet like they had been lovers for years? Like seconds was the same as decades? Was it merely that she lost herself in him?

He moved his lips mere millimeters, fluttering against hers as he spoke, "can't ever turn that brain of yours off eh Bones? I can feel those wheels turning...". His tender smile told her that his teasing was more of a statement then a question. She responded by closing the distance between then and for a few moments gave herself totally over to him, allowing herself to completely surrender to his touch. The gesture did not go unnoticed.

It was like a jolt of electricity that went from her to him, or perhaps the other way forcing them apart, both gasping and grasping for each other. They were surrounded by darkness. Completely void of all light or sound. Nothingness. It was sheer panic as he fought to hold her in the dark. It was cold and empty as she reached out for him. He called out, his voice swallowed up as if he yelled into a pillow. She screamed his name, but it was lost, like a voice against a storm. As the first few tears streamed down her face, she felt him with her. Didn't hear his words but felt them instead.

Bones, I'm here. I'm with you.

She replied not with her voice but with her heart.

I know Booth. I feel you. I know you'll never leave me.

Each one apart and yet together, closed their eyes, and focused on their connection. She felt his arms envelop her; he inhaled deeply as he smelled her shampoo. The darkness couldn't break them. They still had each other.

The ER of the local hospital was ill prepared for the onslaught of patients, visitors, law-enforcement, even the media. The rain hadn't helped matters as they had two motor vehicle accidents and three slip and falls. That added to the usual nightly cases that tonight included a heart attack, a drunken fight, and a case of family food poisoning. The small waiting area soon resembled a three ring circus without a ring master. The two criticals from the fire and one from the car accident consumed nearly all of their staff and equipment. To try and contain the pandemonium a make-shift triage and nursing station was created on one side of the small waiting room. Extra nurses, doctors and security had been borrowed from other floors and the Cardiac Care Unit had agreed to take the heart attack victim right away. But still the best word that came to mind was pandemonium.

Angela had never been adept at controlling her emotions, which was in part what made her a brilliant artist. It also made her a waiting room nightmare. She refused to talk to either the FBI or local law enforcement. The poor young intern from radiology that tried to assess her head injury was ignored except to be asked a barrage of questions about the current status of her friends. At one point she shot out of her chair and slammed through the ER doors before anyone could stop her. Hodgins chased after her first, as she blindly ran down the corridor screaming for Brennan. He reached out to her and she took a swing at him. Despite the pain he now has radiating from the right side of his mandible be managed to restrain her. Tightly he held her until she dissolved into a puddle of tears in the middle of the hallway. A young male nurse approached to offer a sedative but Hodgins waved her off. She would be okay for now. As he kissed the top of her head, rocking her softly, feeling her tears soak the front of his shirt, he continued to say a silent prayer.

Further down the hall, just beyond Hodgin's and Angela's earshot, two teams of doctors continued to work. The partners were in separate rooms divided by a glass wall. The scene was nearly the same with both patients. Dozens of monitors tracked various vital signs. No one was really sure what to expect. Their stats were improving but neither had any signs of spontaneous respiration or increased consciousness. Booth at some points seemed to be fighting the interventions, but the doctors knew that the posturing could also be a sign of brain damage. Prolonged oxygen deprivation could do the cruelest thing. It allowed someone to live, their heart to continue, but never wake up. Continuing as a shell somehow tethered between death and life. Fate it would seem often has a defined sense of irony as well as a proclivity for injustice.


	42. Chapel Conversations

**Author's Note: Well I have to say, that the reviews for the last few chapters have been especially kind and generous. I really do appreciate all of your thoughts and encouragements. I want to extend an extra gratitude to those I recognize chapter after chapter (a special thanks to you!) This chapter is sans B and B, however there is a lot going on with the rest of the team. Angst and Drama for all.**

**I also would like to say, completely devoid of point, that this site has the WORST ads. Yesterday there was one asking me to cut a really heinous looking toe-nail. Today was a quiz if I think I will die young…..what is up with the marketing here?**

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The chaos had slowed to a steady hum of activity. Security had finally managed to evict the media. The sensationalism wasn't surprising, serial killers, best selling authors, dramatic rescues, hints of romance; everything a journalist could hope to find. Now as dawn had broken, the storm had passed and was replaced by thin streams of sunlight. It was a warm comforting glow that highlighted the small group huddled together in wait. Angela's head rested in Hodgins lap, Sweets sat on the floor with his knees to his chest and Cam sat staring blindly out the window. There will several agents posted around the hospital, standing guard, glad to be doing their part however small. Everyone was still on edge, no one knew who the gravedigger was; what happened to him or how Brennan ended up washed ashore. Everyone prayed that soon they would get answers.

Agents Carson and Devlin were assigned to watch those in the waiting area, but their focus was also on their boss. Cullen had returned a few minutes ago after checking on the agents processing the scene and was now pacing the room on his cell phone. He had established the small hospital waiting room as a sort-of command center. It was probably not the most appropriate place to organize the investigation, but everyone wanted to be near in case of news.

The entire room stopped, at the sight of the doctor emerging from the ER. He looked exhausted, never a comforting sign. They gathered around in a show of camaraderie fearing the worst.  
"They are both still alive." The room collectively breathed for the first time. "Their vitals are stable, Dr. Brennan has even shown some signs of attempting to breathe on her own. We are still supporting the effort."

Cullen interrupted unable to hide his concern "and Agent Booth?" He had held back with the other agents in an attempt to keep a respectable distance from the grieving friends. He still heard every word.

The doctor's tone deepened, his face noticeably creased. "He is in critical condition. He is showing some signs of possible brain injury. He is also going to need surgery to repair a badly damaged shoulder and a lacerated liver. At this time we are recommending waiting until he is more stable, right now surgery may be dangerous." The doctor looked at all the empty faces starring back at him, it was always hard giving bleak news. "We will have to see how the next 48 hours go. It is clear that Agent Booth is a fighter. We haven't given up on him yet." The doctor's gentle smile did wonders for the morale in the room. They all trusted Booth's strength.

"Can we see them?" Angela's voice seemed shaky and small. "Just for even a minute?" Her desperation was heart-breaking. She almost disappeared as she clung to Hodgins chest, tears silently gathering on her dark lashes.

"In a few minutes. They are being prepped to go to the ICU floor. Why don't you all go to the waiting room up there? Someone will get you once they are settled." With that he turned and silently headed back through the double doors.

Gathering their things the small group headed upstairs. It was nice to have a bit more peace and quiet, somehow protected from the activity of the ER. The agents had remained in the hall outside the door. At one point Cam went out to usher Cullen inside, he had earned a place with them. They made a tight-knit, albeit strange little family, but in this moment Cullen belonged in their inner sanctum. Wandering into the hallway there were several unnamed agents but no sign of their leader. Something called to her to seek him out. Although she knew very little about the man, there was something in her gut that gave her a good indication where he may have hidden himself. With a few words to the posted guard she went on her search.

Shortly after Cam had left the room a petite steel haired woman came to tell them that the doctor had sent for them. They were to get information from the head nurse at the end of the hallway. It was a strange thing to watch how the group walked down the corridor. It was a combination of rushing to see their friends and fear preventing them from moving forward. The result was a choppy movement of false starts and punctuated pauses. Finally reaching the floor information desk, Hodgins was the first to find his voice, cautiously inquired about their friends.

The nurse never looked up from her computer, after taking the names she motioned to her left. "Ms. Brennan is third on the left number 723." She continued typing on her computer and motioned to her right. "Mr. Booth is fourth room on the right, 761." Hodgins reached out to Angela but he was too late her explosive anger was unleashed. "HER NAME IS DOCTOR BRENNAN AND HE IS AGENT BOOTH!" Her voice was piercing as she shrieked at the woman. "WHY ARE THEY SEPERATED??? THEY NEED TO BE TOGETHER! THEY NEED TO FEEL THAT THE OTHER ONE IS THERE!! THEY NEED TO BE TOGETHER!" Her resolve started to crumble once again. Hodgins went to pull her into a hug once again but she pushed him aside. "Don't hug me....do something...throw that Cantilever weight around! Make them be in a room together! They need each other!"

It was nearly impossible to understand her words as they shrieked from her lips but their meaning was more than clear. Hodgins gave a cautious nod, not only to try and appease her but honestly because she was right. He headed to the elevator; he was going directly to the Chief of Staff. He owed it to his friends to make sure that he used his influence when it mattered the most. He wondered how was he going to explain his rationale for the pair to be together. He didn't think describing his girlfriend's breakdown or their possible psychic connection was the best move. _Because we are all family _he finally surmised. That was the best reason of all.

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Cam entered the small hospital chapel, instantly recognizing the older gentleman in the third pew. She silently crossed herself at the altar and slid beside him. She noticed in his had he held a picture of a lovely, smiling young girl. She didn't know what to say. Instead she resigned herself to a few moments of companionable silence.

He spoke first. "This is Amy she was...is my daughter. My wife, Julia, always wanted me to invite some of the kids from Hoover over for dinner. She claimed that feeding the young men home-cooked dinners would endear them to me, and make my bullish ways easier to swallow. I still claim that she just wanted to get a feel for the type of men that were hired under me. Most came, were respectful, ate, and left. Booth was different. He charmed Julia instantly and took a shine to Amy. He talked to her like she had a good head on her shoulders. Genuinely listened to her replies. Was kind and caring. When she got sick, she had cancer, he sent her a card or a small treat at least once a week. They never failed to make her smile." Cullen's voice started to fall off, looking deeply into the eyes of the girl in the picture, as if hoping for strength or answers or both.

"She died, we spent a lot of time in hospital waiting rooms toward the end." He wiped at his face, his hands shook. "That was the year before you came to the Jeffersonian. Booth and Brennan were fairly new as a team. I honestly didn't trust them….at all. But through Amy's eyes I saw a different side of them. She trusted them. She wasn't wrong. They even discovered that she had been the victim of black market bone graft, which is what was responsible for the disease that took my baby girl. Not that it mattered, despite arresting that scum my Amy still suffered, still died."

Cam placed a comforting hand on his arm. She had heard the sad story of Amy Cullen many times before; in fact a photo of her was still in Angela's office. Not that they needed a reminder about the fragility of life. "She truly was a lovely girl. I am sure you miss her very much. I understand she was quite an artist. I know for a fact that she made quite an impression on my team."

At first Cullen looked stunned that she knew of his daughter. There was a change in his face, not a smile, but a lightening all the same. Amy might be no longer with him, but she wasn't forgotten. That strange little team of misfits had included his family with theirs. He looked at Cam for the first time. "You know that they will both be fine, don't you?"

Cam looked at him. "Sir, how can you be so sure?"

He carefully put his photo back into his wallet. "Because they are both just too damn stubborn not to be."


End file.
